


say we're only dreaming

by chocolatecarstairs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Aladdin AU, Catelyn is Dead, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Joffrey Baratheon is His Own Warning, Multi, Princess!Arya, Robert is not King, a little of the original aladdin movie mixed in too, also storm's end doesn't exist, based on aladdin (2019), but you're getting it anyway, canon-compliant incest - Freeform, genie!davos, joffrey marcella and tommen are incest kids, king!Ned, king's landing is agrabah, nobody asked for this, sorry but she needs to be dead to fit the story oops, storm's end is ababwa, theon will be in here somewhere, this is so self-serving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-07 14:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19210975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatecarstairs/pseuds/chocolatecarstairs
Summary: Gendry Waters had shit luck. How else could you explain his lot in life? Born a bastard, orphaned at the age of four, living on the streets. Hell, the one time he meets a girl he thinks he could actually be in love with, she turns out to be a princess who's required by the Ancient Laws to wed a Highborn. That doesn't stop him from sneaking into the castle to return her bracelet, then her hair pin, then her necklace. He reckons he could keep stealing things from her forever, just so he'd have a reason to sneak back into the palace to see her again night after night. But Gendry Waters had shit luck, so he wasn't completely surprised when he was caught. He was surprised, however, when Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, sent him into the Dragon Cave to retrieve the oil lamp. And who was Gendry to turn down three wishes from an all-powerful genie?_________Gendry falls in love with Arya almost as soon as he meets her, but Ancient Laws and opposite social classes threaten to keep them apart. When he's caught sneaking out of the palace, he's sent into the mysterious Dragon Cave to retrieve an oil lamp for the King's evil hand, Tywin Lannister. What follows is three wishes, a false prince, and plenty of deceit.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the aladdin au that literally nobody asked for

Three men sat atop their horses outside the cave’s entrance. The mouth of the dragon was open, it’s eyes an ominous red. If they were speaking, the harsh winds of the sea and the low whistle coming from the cave drowned out what they were saying. After a long moment, two of the men dismounted and released a prisoner from his chains, shoving him harshly towards the mouth of the cave. The red of the dragon’s eyes flared as the boy, for he couldn’t have been older than two and ten, slowly made his way to the entrance shaking all the while. Finally, he stepped inside and the dragon’s mouth shut.

A mere ten minutes later, the eyes and mouth of the dragon began to glow impossibly brighter. The men on their horses stared on, hoping beyond hope that this time would be different, that finally their Lord’s plan would work and they would be as rich as rich could be. The wind from the sea stopped, and even their Lord looked intent to see if their results had changed- though he almost _never_ dared to get his hopes up. When the cave’s mouth finally opened again, jagged teeth sharp against the black behind them, each of the men knew for certain. _The boy had failed._

The Lord said nothing as he turned his horse around and rode back to the castle, but by the time the morning came the man who had brought them this last prisoner would be long dead.


	2. Riff Raff! Street Rat! Scoundrel!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A twice stolen bracelet, a girl who is decidedly not a lady, and a rooftop chase leave Gendry swooning. Even when the girl he's swooning over is holding a knife to his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you wouldn't believe how hard it is to write a story about a character who always has a pet monkey on his shoulder

The whores were back.

Try as he might, Gendry could not get them to leave him alone as he walked past the brothel. He’d made the mistake of indulging once, a year prior, and he’d paid dearly. No whore was worth a week without food, not even one of Baelish’s. These girls weren’t from Baelish’s brothel, though. They were there to cater to the perverted drunks of Flea Bottom, and, even though Gendry knew that their so-called job was probably more horrifying than anything he’d had yet to experience, he just couldn’t let them steal from him. No matter how much that silver stag would help them.

“Why hello, blue eyes,” the blonde one purred, “why don’t you come into my room and relax? I’m sure whatever you’re so angry about can be forgotten if you take a moment to have your way with me.”

She grabbed his arm with a surprising amount of force for a girl so thin. Gendry knew he should tug his arm out of her grip, but the necklace on her neck looked to be worth more than anything in his pack. If he could just distract her for a second…

“I’m sure we can find somewhere for that monkey of yours to wait.” She continued.

 _Of course!_ Gendry thought. He knew now that if he played along for just a few more moments the pretty chain around her neck would be his meal-ticket for the next two weeks.

“I’m not sure anybody could make Steel wait for me, sweetheart.” Gendry did his best to give her a cheeky grin, but it felt unnatural. He hated talking to whores. They reminded him too much of the fact that he came from one. _How many bastard children and babes were cared for in an empty room of this brothel?_

The whore reached out to pet Steel. “Well, maybe we could find somebody to take care of him, then. Most of us girls are up for anything if it means bedding a lad as handsome as you.”

As soon as she pulled her hand away, Steel grabbed at her. The monkey began crawling up her arm and onto her shoulder, making her giggle. The moment she thought Gendry to be distracted she signaled the dark-haired whore standing behind him in the doorway and he felt the all-too-familiar feeling of a feather-light hand dipping into his pack. He was almost surprised by the skill the girl had. Had Gendry not spent his entire life- save for a few very long weeks on the King’s Road- in Flea Bottom, he wouldn’t have noticed at all. Alas, Gendry was as well trained in the art of thievery as any whore, maybe even better.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he clucked his tongue, grabbing the bronze candlestick from the whore’s hand, tucked into the folds of her silk dress. “I’ll be taking this back, thank you kindly.”

Both whores scowled at him as Steel climbed quickly back onto his shoulder. The girls were too absorbed in their ire at being caught to notice the monkey slip the necklace into Gendry’s pocket as he continued on his way.

 

**........**

 

“I’ll give you a copper star for the candlestick and twenty copper pennies for the necklace.”

Gendry scoffed. “We both know the necklace is worth a stag, maybe more than.”

“Twenty coppers.”

“Meg! I brought you a good haul today, I deserve more than a handful of bloody coppers!” Gendry was getting angry now. He hated how quickly his fury could be unleashed these days, but the longer he was on the streets the quicker he was to feel consumed by rage.

“You brought me a candlestick and a stolen necklace! I’m going to have a bloody hard time selling ‘em! I shan’t be showin’ ‘em to no Goldcloaks. That’d be a one way trip to the Black Cells. And no bloody lowborn will pay more than half a stag for somethin’ as useless as a bloody necklace! Take the fuckin’ coppers and go. Otherwise, you’ll be out on your arse without so much as a halfpenny and I’ll bar you from tradin’ for a moon!” Meg wasn’t one to make idle threats and Gendry knew that being barred from trading with her meant he’d be barred from trading with any of the decent husbandry shops. A moon’s worth of trading with the cunts by the docks would be near fatal. They never offered up more than ten coppers and they’d gut you if you bothered to argue.

“Fine.” Gendry huffed out, grabbing the bag of coppers from the counter and storming out of the shop. He could’ve used more coins, but he’d make do with what he had. He always did.

He made it halfway back to the market when he saw the little boy sitting on the street. His skin was dirty and his hair matted. He was so skinny Gendry could see the bones of his cheeks and jaw on his face and his wrists were wider than the middle of his forearm. Though this boy looked nothing like Gendry had at his age- even at seven he’d towered over every other kid he’d known and his apprenticeship at the smithy had meant that he’d never been without a meal, even if the bowls of brown never quite filled him- Gendry felt a sudden pang looking at him. The flaxen-haired boy, with his dark eyes and pale skin, was more alone than Gendry had ever been until he was four and ten. Quietly, he took the copper star and a few copper pennies from his bag and pressed them into the boys hand. He looked up at Gendry with grateful eyes before stumbling off to the cart selling meat, likely rats, on a stick.

 _Sixteen coppers left,_  Gendry sighed. That’d buy him a bowl of brown every other day for a week. If he could manage to steal some bread or apples from the vendors at the market without getting caught, he’d be able to manage at least until Meg was ready to trade again. He knew he’d be able to pilfer the food, he always was.

 _Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat,_  he thought solemnly.

Gendry was so lost in thought about stealing his food that he didn’t notice the commotion at Hot Pie’s stall until he was upon it.

“How in the Seven Bloody Hells do you plan on paying for that bread, girl?” Ulmar yelled. A small girl looked at him defiantly, not showing an ounce of fear, even in the face of the fat old man that owned the small bakery where Hot Pie worked.

“Those girls were hungry!” The girl yelled back. Gendry couldn’t help but be impressed by her courage. Even Gendry, who at six-foot-four towered over Ulmar by at least six inches, didn’t dare to steal from his cart or yell at the man. This girl was shorter even than Hot Pie, and Ulmar had about four inches of height on her. Still, she continued to squabble with him.

“You have no fucking money!” Ulmar yelled as he looked her up and down. His eyes flashed with delight when they landed upon her wrist. “But, that bracelet will do.”

The girl grabbed her wrist in shock. “No! You can’t have it!"

Just as Ulmar was about to grab the girl and fight her for the bracelet, Gendry stepped in between them.

“Out of the way, boy!” Ulmar howled, lunging for the girl again.

Gendry didn’t know what possessed him to protect the girl behind him, especially when doing so surely meant incurring Ulmar’s wrath, but he stood his ground. With his giant frame blocking her from Ulmar’s view, the baker had no choice but to give up his attack and wait for Gendry to make his point.

“Just let me speak with her, Ulmar,” Gendry said curtly, before turning around and pulling the girl off to the side.

“Get your bloody hands off of me!” She growled, jerking her arm away from his grip when he stopped. “I don’t need your help.”

“Oh,” Gendry said sarcastically. “A thousand pardons, miss. I didn’t realize you had the money to pay for the bread you took from Ulmar and that this is all a misunderstanding. Or that you were somehow plannin’ to fight the bastard. I’m sure your extensive trainin’ and fightin’ prowess will be of much use to you when he pulls his bloody knife on ‘ya.”

“Who’s to say I don’t have a knife of my own?” The girl countered. Then, quick as a whip, she pulled a dagger from her sleeve and stuck it discreetly to Gendry’s stomach. “I could gut you like a fish before they even know what happened.”

“Aye, you could.” Gendry grinned. He didn’t know what kind of stupid fuck _grinned_ when they had a knife to their gut, but he couldn’t help it. The girl’s gray eyes were full of rage and her hands were steady. He couldn’t help but wonder if she really _did_ have some kind of training. “Then, of course, you’d have to figure out who to kill first. Ulmar may seem like the obvious choice but those bloody sellswords in the corner by the brothel will be just as like to gut ‘ya as they’d be to rape ‘ya, and they have much more than one dagger or sword between the lot of ‘em. Of course, you’d also have my monkey to worry about. Steel may not seem like much, but he is trained to kill.”

The girl swallowed thickly, but her eyes were filled with mirth when she glanced to the monkey on Gendry’s shoulder. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

Gendry smirked. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Well, maybe you should start with that.” And then he had her bracelet off of her wrist and was walking past the fruit cart back to Ulmar. He could feel her hot on his heels, probably about to stab him for the bloody jewelry, but he was quicker.

“Oi,” he called to the fat old man. “Here’s your bloody bracelet.”

Ulmar smiled and took the golden bracelet, a wolf and a fish stamped into the metal over and over again, and pocketed it. “Knew I could trust a lad like you to make the bitch see sense.”

Gendry heard the girl give an indignant huff behind him, but he paid her no mind. “Always willing to help out an old friend. Here take an apple, too, for you troubles.”

He tossed the apple to Ulmar, and quicker than the man could see, he dipped a second apple into his pocket, fishing out the heavy bracelet and shoving it into his own. He grabbed the girl by the arm and, though she resisted at first, she eventually began to follow him through the crowded streets deeper into Flea Bottom.

When they were out of sight of the market she whirled on him and punched his shoulder. A girl of her stature should not have been able to land a hit that hard, but Gendry winced nevertheless.

“That was my mother’s bracelet you stupid-”

Gendry cut her off by pulling the bracelet out of his pocket. “You mean this bracelet here?”

The girl looked at him in shock. “How did you-?"

“You learn a thing or two living in Flea Bottom,” Gendry shrugged. “Though, I guess you wouldn’t know, living in the palace and all, _m’lady_.”

The girls grey eyes went wide, flashing with indignation. “I do not live in the palace and I am not a _lady_.”

Gendry smirked at that. True, no lady would ever be stupid enough to steal some bread for a couple of “street rats”, but any person who lived in Flea Bottom wouldn’t be stupid enough to get caught. The girl’s long, dark hair- half braided with the rest simply falling down her back in waves- was clean and well-kept. Her nails were trimmed and lacked the tell-tale dirt and grime any kitchen workers or scullery maids possessed. Though she was wearing breeches and a tunic instead of a dress, she was still dressed in the fine silks and linens of the few Lords and Ladies of the court that Gendry had seen working in the smithy. She was decidedly _not_ from Flea Bottom.

“Ah, so you mean to tell me you don’t live up there in the Red Keep?” Gendry pressed, gesturing behind him to the palace that loomed over the city like a mountain. “What part of King’s Landing do you live in, then, m’lady? Surely not here in Flea Bottom. Nobody here has a bracelet made of solid gold.”

The girl's eyes flashed again. “I am not a lady!”

“Do you think I’m as stupid as the rest of them?” Gendry argued, looking back towards the market. Soon, Ulmar would notice the bracelet was missing and Gendry had hoped to be much further away when that happened.

“Stupider.”

Gendry laughed. A full, solid belly laugh that made the girl huff and shoved him. He was a full foot taller than her, though, and her shove only made him laugh harder.

“Stop laughing!” She huffed and shoved him again. This time, though, she put more of her weight behind it and Gendry fell flat on his ass in the little alley, still laughing. Steel gave out an indignant screech as he was knocked from Gendry’s shoulder.

She stood over him, then, her arms crossed over her chest and her face in a scowl. Her gray eyes flashed and Gendry was suddenly struck with how beautiful she was. She looked to be of age to be wed, and he was suddenly hoping that she _wasn’t_ a lady. If she was, she’d soon be shipped off to some Lord’s castle where she’d bear him children and never venture out into the streets of King’s Landing again. Gendry didn’t know why, but the thought of never seeing her again made his stomach roil.

He stood up and fell into a mock bow. “As m’lady commands.”

She rolled her eyes and grumbled something that sounded strangely like _idiot_ , before turning around and beginning to walk away. Gendry grabbed her by the arm, even though he knew she was likely to stab him for touching her. He couldn’t help it.

“Not a lady, then.” He conceded. “A handmaiden?”

Her eyes lit up. “A handmaiden, yes! I’m handmaiden to Princess Arya.”

“What’s your name, then, handmaiden?” Gendry asked, slightly relieved. If she was a handmaiden, that would explain her fine clothes and clean appearance. At least, he had a chance with a handmaiden. She’d not be wed to any Prince or Lord.

“Cat,” she said after a moment. “My name is Cat.”

“I’m Gendry.” He smiled at her.

The girl- _Cat_ \- opened her mouth to say something, but before she could Hot Pie was running towards them calling his name.

“Gendry! Gendry!” He yelled, out of breath. He must have sprinted the few streets over from the market. “You need to go, now!”

“Why?” he asked, suddenly pushing Cat behind him. He knew Hot Pie’s presence meant his sleight of hand had been found out, and he thought, rather foolishly, that if he could keep the girl out of Hot Pie’s sight, it’d mean keeping her safe.

“Ulmar’s noticed that the bracelet is missin’. When I left, he’d thought he might’ve dropped it, but any second now he’s going to realize you fooled him again.”

“Fuck,” Gendry swore as Steel climbed back onto his shoulder. “Time for us to run, boy. I’ll meet you back home.”

He looked at Cat, whose eyes were wide as she watched the monkey scamper off down the street. He was about to send her back to the keep with her bracelet, when he heard the Goldcloaks from up the street.

“Catch the thief!”

“Fucking hells,” this time it was Cat who swore, and Gendry managed a quick chuckle as he grabbed her arm and led her away from the Goldcloaks.

“Follow me!”

He didn’t give her a chance to protest. He shot down the street, hoping her short legs would be enough to keep up with him as he barrelled through the crowds, the Goldcloaks following too closely behind them.

Once they’d gotten just enough distance between themselves and the Goldcloaks he shot down a familiar alleyway and over to the side of a building.

“Climb!” He ordered, letting Cat grab onto the wall and use the handles sticking out as hand and footholds, scurrying up after her. The Goldcloaks might be able to see them from the roof of this building, but it was easier to evade them higher above the streets. When he finally pulled himself up over the ledge, Cat was panting and grinning like a wolf.

“Where to next?” She asked, gripping his hand as he pulled her from building to building, grateful that Flea Bottom was so crowded most of the houses were built one on top of the other.

“I know a place where we can hide out for a while, then you can return to the castle when the coast is clear.” Gendry explained as he jumped down to the next roof. He grabbed Cat by the waist and gently lowered her to stand in front of him. For a moment, she was looking up at him, eyes open and unguarded, and he got the urge to do somethin’ stupid, like kiss her. Before he could give that any further thought, however, a yell from the street broke them both out of their daze.

“Oi, get down here you bloody bastards!” The Goldcloaks had spotted them.

“Let’s go.” Gendry sighed, and they started running along the roofs of the building again, not stopping to second-guess the jumps they had to make. Or at least not until they got to the end of the street.

“Gendry,” Cat said panting and apprehensive. She hadn’t given him that look since he’d taken her bracelet off of her wrist. “We’re trapped.

He looked around wildly. Seven years of living on the streets. Seven years of thieving and lying and running from people who wanted to kill him or throw him in dungeons. He wasn’t about to let them get to him or Cat. _Especially not Cat._

“No, we’re not.” He said. “When I say, I need you to grab onto the pole and vault across to the roof. Keep running along this street until you reach the end and wait on that roof for me. I’ll meet you there.”

Cat looked at him in horror. “You want me to jump across to there?”

Gendry looked. In reality, it was only about ten feet from one roof to the next, but he understood her hesitation. For a handmaiden that lived in the Red Keep and served one of the princesses, this was probably the most dangerous thing she’d ever done.

“Aye,” Gendry nodded and then smirked. “Do you trust me?”

Cat tried to suppress a grin. “No.”

“Well, maybe you should start.”

They both smiled at each other, but, just as before, their moment was broken by the yell of a Goldcloak. This time he was on the roof, and he was only a few buildings away from catching them red-handed.

Gendry grabbed Cat and pulled her back from the ledge. “Get a running start, don’t hesitate, don’t look down. Soon as you’re over the other roof let go. Once the pole hits the side it’ll start to roll and you need to be long off it before that happens.”

Cat nodded and took a deep breath. “Gendry, I-"

But there was no time. The Goldcloak was three buildings away now and if he made it to them, Gendry’s plan wouldn’t work. “Go, Cat!”

She ran and jumped, graceful as could be, she gripped the pole tightly as it swung across the street and let go just before it crashed into the side of the building. She turned to him with a grin on her face, but it quickly fell. “Gendry, behind you!”

He was expecting that. The Goldcloak was on the roof above him now and he had to act fast if he was going to get out of this.

“Run, Cat!” He yelled, not turning to see if she listened. He couldn’t risk it.

Instead, he grabbed one of the barrels on top of the roof and ran to the edge. The Goldcloak was carefully making his way down, now. The building he was on was at least ten feet taller than this one. As soon as the guard dropped to the roof, Gendry jumped and threw the barrel with all his might. He heard it crash through the roof on the other side of the street as he gripped the ledge of the window below the roof and swung himself inside.

He was in one of the small rooms of a brothel near the Street of the Sisters and thankfully it wasn’t being used. Many a Flea Bottom whorehouse were fully occupied day and night.

He carefully made his way down the stairs, picking up a discarded cloak from outside one of the rooms before sneaking out a side door. The Goldcloaks in the street paid him no mind as they searched through the wreckage of the roof across the street. Gendry hurried along until he finally reached the end of the street. Throwing off his stolen cloak, he began to climb up the side of the building and pulled himself up onto the roof. He nearly jumped back when he felt the knife pressed to his side.

“Oh!” Cat squeaked when she realized it was him. “Gendry!”

And then the knife was on the floor and Cat’s arms were around his stomach. Gendry stilled for a moment, unsure of what to do, but eventually, he wrapped his arms around the girl as well. They stayed like that for a long moment, before she pulled away.

“You said earlier that you knew of a place where we could wait until it was safe for me to return to the palace?” She asked, looking up at him through her lashes.

She was still so close to him. Gendry was having a hard time keeping his thoughts straight. He couldn’t help thinking of the fact that he hadn’t had a decent wash in nearly a week and his beard was beginning to grow in, despite the fact that he tried to keep himself clean-shaven in the heat. He was dirty and smelly and poor. This girl was clean and dressed in fine leathers and silks. He shouldn’t even be speaking to her.

“Aye,” he began. “Though, maybe ‘ya ought to just go straight home. No sense in spending anymore time with me than necessary."

Cat’s eyes flashed with anger once again and she picked her dagger up from the ground. “No sense in you telling me what I should be doing. Take me to this place, or I’ll stick my knife in you.”

Once again, Gendry couldn’t help but laugh. He knew she wouldn’t hesitate to stab him if he tried anything on her, but he couldn’t see her doing it just because he’d sent her home. Regardless, this was his excuse to spend more time with her and he wouldn’t throw it away for some stupid sense of pride, honor, and nobility. “Fine then, but ‘ya better keep up.’’

He swiftly climbed down from the building and Cat followed. He grabbed her by the waist when she was low enough for him to reach and she hollered at him to let her down. Even as he did, though, he noticed the way her hands lingered on his arms as she refused to step away from him even as they began to walk through the city.

They walked in silence until Gendry abruptly turned down an abandoned alleyway. Cat’s grip on his arm tightened in surprise, but she followed along without much resistance.

“What in the Seven Hells is this place?” She asked as they ventured further down the alley. Finally, Gendry stopped and turned to face her.

“This is where I live, m’lady.” He shrugged before pushing back the curtain that served as his doorway. It was now or never, and he knew she wouldn’t be impressed by his room.

She stepped inside and he followed, standing sheepishly behind her while she walked around the small room. Truthfully, she couldn’t take more than a few steps in any direction. The room was barely big enough to fit the small straw mattress in the corner and his meager collection of stolen trinkets and small things he’d had his whole life. Steel was curled up in his small bed of sheets in the corner. When that monkey was sound asleep, even a fully grown dragon wouldn’t be able to wake him.

He still hung back in the doorway, watching her as she took in everything he owned. Her mouth was parted slightly and her eyes were wide as she picked through some of his possessions. The only light in the room came from the doorway and the small window with bars running across it, far above either of their heads.

“How did you find this place?” Cat asked, finally turning back to Gendry.

He blushed again. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking from her voice, but she lived in a castle. He doubted that a room small enough for him to be able to touch both walls if he spread his arms out would impress her.

“This building used to be a bakery, but the owner died a few years ago and it became a brothel,” he shrugged. “This room used to be used to store grains and other supplies, but the Madame doesn’t have much use for it, so it was forgotten about.”

“You have this all to yourself?” She asked, surprising him. “And you may come and go as you please?”

Gendry nodded.

“This is amazing.” Cat breathed out, running her hand along the wall.

Gendry grinned again, this woman was full of surprises. “You really think so?"  
Cat nodded. “My room at the palace is grand and opulent, but it might as well be a prison. I’d much rather have something that felt so much like a home, a place where I could come and go as I please.”

Gendry had never considered that Cat wasn’t allowed to leave the castle whenever she wanted. “Surely they let the handmaidens leave sometimes?”

Cat looked startled for a moment, before schooling her features into a calm expression. “We can only go wherever the princess goes, and her father hasn’t let her leave the palace since her mother was killed.”

Gendry nodded solemnly. He remembered the absolute grief much of the city had felt when Queen Catelyn had died at the hands of some nameless sellswords on the King’s Road. Her and her youngest sons, Bran and Rickon, had been on their way to the Riverrun to visit her Lord father, Hoster Tully, for his nameday. The boys had survived the attack, though Bran had been injured quite severely, but the Queen had died. The King was said to have been distraught for many moons, and sightings of the Princes and Princesses became less and less, even within the walls of the Red Keep. Eventually, nobody outside the palace saw any of them. The only exception was the king’s oldest son and heir, Robb Stark, who was taking on more and more royal duties as he grew older.

“The poor princess must be lonely,” Gendry said softly. “I hope she enjoys your company. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be stuck inside the walls of a palace for the rest of my days.”

Cat gave Gendry another look, this time her eyes were soft. “I think she is quite lonely. Her father and brother have been making plans to marry her off, but she has yet to approve of any prince or lord who seeks her hand. I don’t think she wants to leave King’s Landing, nor does she like being treated as an object to be bought through dowries and marriage contracts.

“What will you do if she accepts one of their proposals?” Gendry asked before he could stop himself.

She was silent for a moment. “I suppose I would have to go with her.”

Gendry was quiet at that. He didn’t quite know what to make of the sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of never seeing Cat again.

Cat seemed to take his silence as an invitation to change the subject of their conversation. She stepped into the corner of the room and picked up his helm. He finger traced the horns and eyes, admiring the bull-shaped creation he’d made at four and ten just before Tobho Mott had ended his apprenticeship and sent him with Yoren on the Kingsroad. It was his most prized possession, and one of the few things he owned that he hadn’t stolen.

“This is beautiful,” Cat breathed, admiring the helm. “Where did you get it?”

“I made it.” Gendry explained. He never was one for many words.

Cat looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face. “You know how to smith, then?”

“Aye.” Gendry said, his tone making it clear he didn’t want to discuss this any further.

“Why a bull?”

He chuckled at that. “I’ve been told many a time that I’m stubborn as a bull. Thought I’d embrace it.”

Cat laughed too, and then it was silent again.

After a moment, he looked out the small window above her head, the light was already beginning to fade, and he knew she’d need to be back at the palace long before the sun fully set. The only thing worse than running from the Goldcloaks through Flea Bottom was running from the creatures that showed their face there when the night fell.

“I think it’s time for me to get you back to the Keep, m’lady.” Gendry said quietly. “There ain’t anything worse than walking through Flea Bottom come nightfall.”

“You’d be walking through Flea Bottom at nightfall if you bring me back to the Keep right now, Gendry.” Cat pointed out, her hands on her hips.

“I’ll manage.” Gendry sighed. She was right, of course, but he couldn’t let her walk back to the keep alone.

“No.”

“Pardon me?” Gendry asked, confused. What was Cat trying to do?

“I’ll not have you murdered just to walk me back to the palace.” Cat said, an air of finality and confidence in her voice Gendry had never heard from a handmaiden before. Not that he’d spoken to many a handmaiden in his twenty-one years.

“Well, I’ll not have you walking back to the bloody palace on your own, m’lady.” He added the nickname just to watch her squirm uncomfortably at the title. All day he’d found it endearing, but now he was getting irritated with her. Who was she to tell him what he would and wouldn’t be doin’. Especially after he’d saved her bloody ass at the market and nearly been thrown in the Black Cells for it.

Cat considered him for a moment and then plopped down onto his bed without a hint of the grace or coordination she’d shown earlier. “Well, I suppose this bed will do.”

 _What in the hells does she mean by that?_ Gendry struggled for a minute. From the giggle she gave he could only imagine how stupid his face looked. Many people had told him how pained he looked when he was thinking. Finally, the realization dawned on him.

“No,” Gendry said, firmly. “You can’t sleep here. Get up and come with me. I’ll bring you home.”

But Cat just tugged off the jerkin she was wearing and laid back against the bed with a smile on her face. “I’m quite comfortable here, thank you kindly.”

Gendry looked at Steel, who had finally woken up and taken an interest in what was happening in the room. He couldn’t let Cat walk home alone and she wouldn’t let him bring her back to the palace. He wondered how long she would put up with his arguments before she simply stormed out into the night. It might be best just to give up and let her have her way.

“Fine,” he grumbled before sitting on the floor. “Guess, I’ll sleep here, then.”

Cat’s only response was a gentle snore. She was already fast asleep.

 

**…….**

 

The sound of bells tolling woke Gendry from his slumber.

He groaned and rolled over on the hard ground of his room, memories of the day before coming back to him as he was met with the sight of a small girl in his bed, Steel curled up against her side. She’d nearly gotten him thrown into the Black Cells and his hand chopped off for stealing, but it was the best day he’d had in a very long while. He knew the feelings he had looking at her face, so peaceful and youthful as she slept, were only going to mean trouble for him, but he couldn’t make himself look away. That is, until the bells woke her up too.

She shot up quick as a cat and jumped from the bed, looking around in confusion for a moment before her eyes landed on Gendry and her expression softened. It lasted only a moment, though, before she was frantically pulling on her jerkin and making her way out of the room.

“Oh no,” Cat groaned as she struggled to tie her dagger into her belt. “I’m sorry, Gendry, I need to be back to the palace. It’s past dawn. I’m late!”

It took Gendry a moment before he was on his feet, tugging on his shoes and shirt and grabbing his pack before following her out the door. “Late?”

Cat sighed and turned around. “The princess has to meet a prince from Essos today. He’s come to ask for her hand.”

Again Gendry was confused. “What does that have to do with you, m’lady?”

“Stupid,” Cat smacked his shoulder. “I have to dress her and prepare her for the prince.”

The way Cat said the words made him feel like she wasn’t exactly happy about her duties. She made it sound as though she was preparing Princess Arya to be served at a feast, not for a royal visit with a handsome Essoi princling.

“At least let me bring you back to the Keep,” Gendry sighed, running his hands through his thick black hair. “I know the quickest way.”

Cat considered him for a moment, before nodding and grabbing his hand. “Quickly, I can’t be any later than I already am.”

Together, they ran through the streets and down alleyways until they were on Aegon’s High Hill. The houses becoming grander and larger the further they went. Finally, they were at the servant’s entrance near the kitchen and Cat turned around to say her goodbyes.

“Thank you, Gendry,” She smiled up at him. “For everything.”

Before he could reply she stood on up on her toes and pulled his face down to her, pressing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Goodbye, Gendry.’ She sighed, before turning around.

“Goodbye, Cat.” He said, sad to see her go.

She’d made it halfway to the entrance before turning around and walking back towards him. Part of Gendry hoped she would kiss him, the other urged her to get inside and find the princess before she got into anymore trouble. Of course, she did neither.

A few paces away from him, she stopped. “I can’t believe I almost forgot my mother’s bracelet.”

Gendry tried not to feel disappointed that she hadn’t kissed him. It wouldn’t have been proper. “Of course.”

He dug his hands into his pack and felt around, but it was empty save for his bag of coins. He tried each of his pockets next, each time finding nothing there. “I swear I had it. Hold on-”

He was cut off by the feeling of a knife to his throat. “That bracelet was my mother’s! It was all I had left of her! You’re nothing but a common thief, a liar! I can’t believe I-” Cat dropped the knife and stared at him in shock for a moment. “I never want to see your face again, bastard.”

Then she ran into the Keep and he was alone.

He was going to kill his stupid pet monkey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here is chapter one! i spent most of last night writing this and i literally fell asleep mid-sentence, so sorry if there are any mistakes. i don't have a beta, oops. i do, however, have some plans for this story. it's gonna be follow the plot of aladdin for sure, but there will definitely be some game of thrones storylines making a heavy appearance. more people will be vying for the lamp than just tywin, and politics will play an important role. i haven't totally figured it all out yet, so if you have any ideas let me know! as always kudos are appreciated and comments literally make my heart soar. let me know what you think!


	3. Not This Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion takes the scenic route on the way back from the Black Cells. Sansa realizes her bite can be worse than her bark. Arya and a serving girl both pine over the same bastard from Flea Bottom, though only the serving girl knows she's pining. Gendry gets royally f*cked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so long. i'm sorry or you're welcome, depending on how you feel about 16,000 word chapters. enjoy some new POV's, there will be plenty more to come soon! (also, me totally changing the way the red keep is set up to make maegor's holdfast fit into my story- more likely than you think!)

Arya had almost made it back to her chambers before she was caught. If Bran had been the one to catch her, he simply would have shaken his head and continued on down the corridor. Rickon would have asked questions, but at ten years old he wouldn’t dare tattle on his older siblings, especially Arya, for fear of retaliation. Robb or Jon would have laughed at her appearance, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled, and face flushed from running all the way through the city. But they all would have assumed she’d been sneaking around the palace. Everyone underestimated her. Almost everyone.

“Where have you been, Arya?” Sansa asked, her face pinched in the exasperated and disapproving expression that she’d mastered before she was Rickon’s age. Now, at eight and ten, she had a rigid idea of propriety and, though she’d ended much of her hurtful name calling since the death of their mother, she had always disapproved of Arya’s sense of adventure.

Arya shrugged. “I was just having a walk about the palace.”

“Really?” Sansa did not sound convinced. “You needed to dress in Jon’s old breeches and leathers to stroll through the corridors of your own home?”

Arya nodded. “They’re more comfortable for long walks and you know I loathe wearing dresses.”

“I see,” Sansa pursed her lips. “Though I did make a point to ask the guards posted at each station if they’d seen you at all last night, and each believed you to be asleep in your chamber. Even Jory, who was posted outside the family’s quarters through the night, hadn’t seen you.”

Arya kept her face steady. If, for even one second, she let her frustration and surprise at being caught show her sister would not leave her alone until she knew where Arya had gone. Their father would be notified immediately and Arya would be followed throughout the palace by a member of the Kingsguard for a fortnight. “I like to stick to the shadows. If the guards see me, they offer to escort me and I’d rather be alone. I fell asleep looking at the dragon skulls, that’s all Sansa.”

Sansa didn’t look convinced, but Arya had learned how to manipulate her words in such a way that gave her sister no choice but to take her word.

“You’re late to get dressed.” Sansa finally conceded. “You will need to be quick with your bath as not to keep Prince Aegon waiting. Your handmaiden is waiting.”

Though Arya knew that was her dismissal, she couldn’t help but groan at the idea of meeting yet another pompous prince who was more interested in who her father was- and what kingdom he ruled over- than they were in who she was as a person.

Sansa sensed her dissatisfaction. “Really, Arya, he’s a good match. His aunt is Queen in Slaver’s Bay. I’ve even heard that she’s renaming it Dragon’s Bay now that she’s freed all of the slaves from their masters.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand, Sansa. I don’t want to leave King’s Landing, or Father. I don’t want to leave our brothers, our family. I don’t even want to leave you. You were fortunate in your marriage. Though Podrick was only a knight, he comes from a noble family. You’d known him your entire life and you loved him and Father knew it, so he gave him a place on his small council and allowed you to stay at court. I don’t wish to marry someone I do not love. Someone who will make me bear him children and run his household, not caring what I think of politics or the people. That’s not me.”

Sansa sighed. “I know you don’t wish to do those things, but it is your duty as Princess. You know Father and Robb will not make you marry someone you don’t approve of. I just wish you wouldn’t judge these suitors so harshly. Besides, having children is one of the biggest joys I have ever known. I love Elyas more than life itself. I know it can be hard to imagine, but don’t you want that?”

Truthfully, Arya didn’t know what she wanted. Sansa had been so happy the day she and Podrick were wed. Happier still the day her son was born, even after a full day of laboring. “I just don’t want to be wed to someone I don’t love.”

Before Sansa could come up with a reply, Arya turned and walked into her chambers unable to continue explaining herself to a sister who’d spent her entire life dreaming of the very thing Arya had spent her’s dreading.

Though Arya’s father had hundreds of staff at his disposal, and Sansa had a small army of handmaidens to attend to her every need, Arya had always preferred to have just one. Truthfully, she could do without even one person waiting on her, but in the years following her mother’s death, she was glad to have someone outside of her family to speak to and roam the palace with. Mina was not a typical handmaiden. She was Arya’s age and swore often. She’d made quick work of many of the grooms and squires throughout the palace, leaving most of them fawning over her whenever she passed them by, but she tended to lose interest once she’d bedded them. She wasn’t shy about giving Arya the details of which squire knew just how to use his tongue, which groom knew the right way to touch her, and which of the young guards wasn’t quite as well endowed as he’d boasted to the others. She was Arya’s closest friend and the two of them had spent many a night sneaking about the castle with a stolen skin of wine, getting into all sorts of trouble. So, as soon as Arya shut the door to her chambers behind her, Mina pounced.

“Snuck off into the city, did you now?” She clucked as Arya walked towards the bath. “Should’ve told me. Been too long since I last visited the shops on Visenya’s Hill.”

Arya shrugged out of her clothes and settled into the warm water, glad to let the heat wash away some of the pain she’d been feeling from running throughout all of King’s Landing in the last day. “I was not near Visenya’s Hill, or the shops.”

“Stayed just outside the Keep, then?’’ Mina queried.

“No,” Arya bit her lip to keep from smiling.

“Tell me you were at the docks, then, I beg of you,” Mina’s eyes grew wide. “Anywhere but where I think you’ve spent your night.”

Arya couldn’t help the grin that broke out on her face at Mina’s words. “I wasn’t planning on going there, Mina, I swear it. I was just going to see the Dragon’s Pit, but I made a wrong turn on my way back to the palace, and once I saw the people there, I just knew I couldn’t leave before I’d come up with a way to help them!”

Mina sighed. “Arya, I know how you feel for the common people, but Flea Bottom is too dangerous a place for a girl, especially a Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. You could have been beaten, or murdered, or raped- possibly all three!”

Arya began to scrub the dirt from her body, considering Mina’s words. “I was never in any real danger there, Mina. Not for long anyway.”

“Not for long?” Mina screeched, dropping the silk dresses she was holding and moving to the front of the bath to face Arya, her arms crossed over her chest. “Arya Stark, what in the seven bloody hells could you possibly hope to mean by that?”

Arya had always been able to keep her emotions from showing on her face, but as soon as Mina had come to work at the palace, she’d realized it might be nice to have one person she could be honest with. The blush that spread across her cheeks was one nobody but her handmaiden saw from her these days. Still, Arya tried to answer as smoothly as possible. “There was an incident with a surly baker, but the matter was resolved.”

“Arya,” Mina’s tone was warning.

“Fine!” Arya relented. “I stole some bread from a baker’s cart to feed two hungry orphans, but the baker caught me. He was about to beat me and steal my mother’s bracelet as payment, but a boy intervened and tricked him. Then, the Goldcloaks were after us for stealing and we had to run throughout all of Flea Bottom to avoid getting caught!”

“Goldcloaks?” Mina’s eyes were wide. “Arya, you should have just told them who you were, no doubt they’d have brought you back to the palace unharmed.”

Arya sighed. “I could not. I’d already told Gendry I was a handmaiden, and, though the Goldcloaks would have seen me safely home, they’d have brought Gendry straight to the Black Cells and cut off his hand. I would never have allowed that to happen.”

“Gendry?” Mina asked, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. “Suppose he’s the boy who saved you from the baker, then.”

Arya’s blush was back. “He was more of a man, really, close to Robb’s age I believe. He was quick, and stubborn as a bull, and strong,” Arya thought back to the way his arms had felt wrapped around her waist as he’d helped her down from the roof. “He lives on his own in this tiny little room a brothel has no need for, and he does whatever he pleases and goes wherever he wishes.”

Mina didn’t miss the wistful way Arya said the words, or the glint in her eye when she spoke of the man she’d met. “Sounds like you fancy the lad, then. Are you considering giving up this life of wealth and leisure and moving into Gendry’s tiny room in Flea Bottom?”

“That would be ridiculous Mina.”

"Aye, it would be,” Mina agreed. “But when has Princess Arya ever done something sane? She wears breeches more than dresses, handles a sword better than the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and, just last night, she snuck out of the palace into the most dangerous part of the city to spend a night with a boy who lives in a brothel.”

“He doesn’t live in the brothel,” Arya corrected, stepping out of the bath and pulling on her dressing gown. “He lives in an old storeroom on the side of the brothel.”

“My apologies, your Grace,” Mina teased, as she readied Arya’s corset. “A grievous error on my part.”

Arya rolled her eyes and stepped into the cursed clothing. She’d hated corsets since the first time her mother had forced her into one. You couldn’t run, or play, or swing a sword in a corset.

All was quiet for a few moments as Mina began doing up the laces at Arya’s back. After a moment’s consideration, Mina spoke again. “Do you think you’ll see him again, this boy from Flea Bottom?”

Arya considered the question. She had never felt as free as she had running over the rooftops of Flea Bottom with her hand in Gendry’s and, though she knew that she should have returned to the palace that night, she had stayed in his bed, not giving him a choice in the matter, just so the best day of her life would not end so soon. But, the light of the dawn was often harshest, and she’d seen his true colors outside the servant’s entrance to the Keep. “I don’t believe I will. He stole my mother’s bracelet from me, even after I’d told him how much I cherished it.”

“Oh, Arya,” Mina cooed, finished with the corset, she turned Arya around and wrapped her in a hug. “I am so sorry. I know how much that bracelet means to you.”

Arya let herself be comforted for five seconds. She would not allow herself any more time, lest she become too emotional and have her guard down when meeting this prince. Once she’d counted to five, she pulled herself out of Mina’s embrace and locked her emotions away behind a heavy iron door in her mind’s eye. “Thank you, Mina. Now, let me finish getting dressed. Father will be quite disappointed if I am late to meet another of my suitors.”

Mina finished dressing Arya in silence. As soon as the last of the laces on her silk dress was tied and her feet were slipped into her slippers, they set off to the throne room. Somewhere along the way, Arya’s pet direwolf fell into step beside her. The beast was almost as tall as Arya now, and though she wasn’t as well trained as Grey Wind or Summer, Robb and Bran’s wolves, Nymeria’s adventurous and oftentimes rebellious personality reminded Arya of herself. She loved her wolf fiercely, the one time Cersei Lannister had commented on how such a beast was not a very ladylike companion for someone of Arya’s status she’d almost lost her hand. Now though, Robert Baratheon’s widow knew to keep quiet about what she thought of Arya’s lifestyle choices, though Arya never did miss the way her expression would sour every time Arya rejected another one of her suitors or turned up to dinner in the Great Hall wearing breeches.

“Truly, Father, I do not understand your surprise at the girl’s tardiness,” Arya heard Cersei’s voice from around the corner as they neared the throne room. “She’s never been a proper lady. I could almost admire her stubborn will if she wasn’t such a naive child, still.”

Tywin Lannister’s voice carried down the corridor as well, though he seemed to be speaking quietly. “You speak as though you hadn’t almost been dragged to the Sept kicking and screaming when it came time for you to wed the Baratheon, daughter. If Jaime hadn’t spoken to you I do not think you would have come willingly.”

Cersei had opened her mouth to say something, but whatever it was was cut off by Arya and Mina rounding the corner with a direwolf by their side. Tywin and Cersei bowed their heads in unison. “Your Grace.”

Arya pursed her lips but knew better than to forget her formalities in front of her father’s hand and his daughter. “My Lord, My Lady.”

“Princess,” Tywin smiled, though it never did quite reach his eyes. “I think it best not to keep your father waiting any longer, don’t you agree?”

Arya did not agree. If it were up to her, she would not be meeting this prince at all, but it was not up to her. The small council and the few other lords of Westeros who had her father’s ear were insisting she be wed, usually to one of their sons. Cersei and Tywin certainly had not forgotten the slight of Joffrey being rejected by Arya and Sansa both. Tommen had also been presented to Arya, having been too young for Sansa, but she’d rejected him as well. It seemed the only thing keeping Cersei from retaliating in some way was her father’s power over her, that and the fact that Arya had also rejected every other suitor who’d come to her since her fourteenth nameday.

But Arya knew she could make no arguments about _meeting_ the suitors, so she sighed. “Of course, Lord Tywin.”

The guards outside the throne room opened the large doors for Lord Tywin, and he motioned for Arya to wait as he announced her arrival to those holding court inside. For most of these meetings only the small council, Robb, and the King were present, but today almost the entire court had been required to attend to show their respect to the Essoi prince and his aunt, Queen Daenerys Targaryen.

After a moment, a knight of the Kingsguard was coming out of the doors and escorting Arya inside, Mina and Nymeria at her heels. She looked around the throne room. Her father, King Eddard Stark, was sat atop the Iron Throne, looking at Arya with mirth. No doubt he found her late arrival more amusing than anyone else at court. At his side sat Robb, who looked more or less bored over the whole ordeal. He’d never much cared for watching his sisters entertain suitors, even more so now that it was clear Arya had no interest in any man who came to try for her hand. The council members were standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne. Lord Tywin looked unamused and serious as ever, no doubt hoping Arya would finally agree to a match and forge an alliance with the Targaryens. Pod, who had been appointed Master of Law soon after his marriage to Sansa, gave Arya an encouraging smile. Lord Baelish looked on with his usual calculating expression. Arya had never much trusted the Master of Coin, but he’d been a dear friend to her mother and so he’d been given a place on her father’s council. Lord Varys was expressionless as usual, though Arya knew he probably knew more about why she was late than everyone else in the room combined. Renly Baratheon, Master of Ships stood beside Varys, and Arya felt a strange sense of familiarity when she looked at him that she couldn’t quite place.

Before she had time to dwell on that her Father stood. “Queen Daenerys, Prince Aegon, my daughter Princess Arya Stark of Westeros.”

Arya turned to the Queen and Prince Aegon and curtsied, though she hated every second of it. Sansa was much more comfortable at court than her. The Queen was younger than she’d been expecting, she looked younger than Robb and maybe even Jon. If what Sansa and her father had told her was correct, Queen Daenerys had conquered Slaver’s Bay when she was younger than Arya.

 _Impressive_ , Arya thought.

Prince Aegon had a similar coloring to his aunt. Both Targaryens had white-blonde hair and violet eyes. Aegon looked to be even older than Robb, and, much to Arya’s chagrin was slender and lithe where Gendry had been broad and muscled.

 _Gendry_ , Arya thought, annoyed with herself, This was not the time, nor the place to be thinking of Gendry. She shouldn’t be thinking about him in her father’s throne room while assessing a suitor. Not his blue eyes, or his broad shoulders, or his well-muscled stomach she’d eyed before he’d pulled his shirt on that morning-

“Ahem,” Prince Aegon cleared his throat, clearly noticing her distraction. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. I have heard of your incredible beauty even as far as Dragon’s Bay, but I am afraid the words can not begin to do you justice.”

Arya suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at his words. _Her beauty_ , as if that was the most important thing about her, was not something she believed in. Arya Horseface, as Sansa and her friends at court had so often called her in their youth, was not beautiful. “Prince Aegon, the pleasure is mine. I am quite surprised that only word of my beauty has made it as far as Meereen. I would have thought rumors of the She-Wolf of the Red Keep and the men she’d brought to heel with her sword would be quicker to travel than the so-called incompetent words of my beauty.”

Above them, Arya heard a soft snicker. Her eyes flicked up to meet Jon’s gaze and she fought the urge to grin. He, out of everyone in her family, was the most understanding of her desire not to wed.

“What my nephew means to say,” Queen Daenerys cut in before Aegon could open his mouth to speak further. “Is that your reputation as a smart, skilled, and kind princess proceeds you, though you are also more beautiful than any of those stories have ever been able to convey.”

Arya smiled tightly. “Thank you, your Grace. Your words are too kind.”

Her father smiled and spoke again. “I am glad to have seen that everyone has been properly introduced. Queen Daenerys, Prince Aegon, you are welcome to stay here in the palace until we have come to a decision about your proposal. Please, let my guards show you to your quarters.”

Arya saw Aegon’s eyes flash at his dismissal, but he bowed and followed the two guards without a word. Queen Daenerys curtsied towards King Ned before following the guards and her nephew. “Thank you for your hospitality, you Grace.”

Arya watched as they walked away from the throne. Nymeria growled as Aegon walked past, and Arya watched the prince flinch away. _So much for the fearless Dragon Prince._

As much as she was itching to shed her silk dress in favor of her breeches, Arya had not yet been dismissed from court. Instead, she had to watch as her father listened to each grievance and query from the Lord’s and petitioners under his command. She made her way over to stand next to Bran, who was intently listening to each petitioner but rolled his eyes each time a Lord brought a small dispute to their father’s attention. He’d never much had the patience for their whining. Finally, after what felt like hours the court was dismissed, but Arya’s father motioned for her and her brother to stay.

As King Eddard descended the steps from the throne with Robb beside him, Arya pushed Bran’s chair to meet him. Jon and Sansa came down from the balcony where they’d been watching their father hold court. Podrick, who was still slightly intimidated by the King and his heir, walked over shyly to stand next to Sansa.

Sansa was the first to speak. “Arya, I cannot even begin to fathom what led you to behave that way towards Prince Aegon, in front of Queen Daenerys no less. I am surprised their offer of marriage is still standing after the way you embarrassed him in front of the entire court.”

Arya rolled her eyes but said nothing.

“I thought it was quite entertaining, actually,” Podrick said, offering her a small smile. “Clearly, the Dragon Prince knows very little about you if he thinks complimenting your beauty will win your affections.”

Sansa looked at her husband in shock. “You truly think that was appropriate behavior for a Lady of the court, Pod?”

“Appropriate?” Pod smiled wider. “By the Seven, no! Though, it was perhaps the most entertaining thing I’ve witnessed in the throne room in a long while.”

Robb, who stood beside Ned, gave a chuckle at that, reminding Podrick that the King was in their presence.

“I beg pardon, your Grace, I did not think before I spoke.”

Ned just smiled and grasped Pod’s arm. “Podrick, please, you are my son by law. You must always feel free to speak your mind, even in front of me. I still do wish you to call me Ned when not at court or council meetings.”

Podrick offered a small smile and Sansa wrapped an arm around his waist in comfort. They were so _familiar_ with each other, in the way that Arya’s mother and father had been. Arya had never before been jealous of her sister’s marriage, but at that moment the love Sansa and Podrick shared made envy cloud her thoughts.

 _What has gotten into me?_ Arya thought bitterly as Pod rested his hand atop Sansa’s at his waist.

“I, for one, thought Prince Aegon seemed none too interested in Arya,” Jon offered. “He asked more questions of you and Robb than he did her.”

Robb nodded. “Aye, he did. Though, he would be a very good match for you, Arya. The rumors around it are not clear, but word from Essos is Queen Daenerys is barren, and we do know that she has named Prince Aegon her heir. Should you marry, you would one day be Queen of Slaver’s Bay.”

“Dragon’s Bay,” Arya corrected. “Besides, I’ve no wish to be queen of a country I’ve never stepped foot in. Or to be queen just because I marry a prince. I deserve more than to wed a man and bear him children and sit in a palace forever.”

Her father flinched at her last words, but said nothing.

“The council is growing weary, Arya,” Robb continued. “They are pressuring father to force your hand and see you wed. Their patience is growing more and more thin now that your sixteenth nameday has come and gone. Lord Tywin believes that we need to forge new alliances, and while I want the choice to be yours and yours alone, I do agree that alliances are an important part of ruling a kingdom.”

Arya felt as though she’d been slapped. Was Robb really threatening to force her into a betrothal and marriage she didn’t want? To ship her off to some foreign land, never to see her family or her home again?

“More important than your sister’s happiness? You’d rather have me wedded, bedded, and _miserable_ than lose out on an alliance we don’t need in a time of peace?” Arya countered.

Now, it was Robb’s turn to look as though she’d struck him. He opened his mouth to reply, but their father cut him off.

“Enough,” King Eddard’s voice rang throughout the hall. “Robb, I will hear no more talk of forcing your sister’s hand. Arya is only six and ten, she has plenty of time to find a suitable and agreeable match and be wed. Lord Tywin will have to accept that I allow my children to make their own decisions concerning their betrothals.”

Robb blushed, furiously and muttered his apologies both to his father and sister.

“Arya,” Ned turned to his daughter. “I do not understand why you must be so disagreeable to every new suitor. Perhaps, if you did not condemn every man who came into this room to ask for your hand before meeting them, you’d actually find one you could love.”

Arya wanted to protest that it wasn’t fair. Sansa and Podrick had known each other their whole lives, and they’d been in love with each other for years before Sansa was of age to be wed. Robb and his wife, Jeyne, had met when Robb had been injured in battle and she’d nursed him back to health. They’d fallen in love before an offer of betrothal was ever made, much to the chagrin of House Tyrell, who had been negotiating a betrothal to Lord Tyrell’s daughter Margaery with Lord Tywin. Even her half brother Jon had been allowed to follow his heart. He’d gone north of the Wall with the Night’s Watch to find their missing uncle Benjen on orders from their father and met a Wildling girl who’d stolen his heart. He was rarely further south than the Frost Fangs these days, but at least once a year he’d spend a moon in the Red Keep. Rarely did Ygritte accompany him, but the few times she had, Arya had grown quite fond of her.

Her father’s expression, though, left no room for protest. “I need you to at least seriously entertain the offers of marriage that are being proposed, Arya. We’ve been housing lords and princes at the palace for a long while, and many are beginning to grow restless. I fear if we do not find a match soon, many will try to force one on us.”

Arya sighed and nodded, feeling utterly defeated. “Yes, father.”

Ned moved to hug her. As he kissed her hair, he sighed. “I do love you, more than words can say, my little She-Wolf of the Red Keep.”

The entire family laughed at that. Maybe Arya wouldn’t have to leave. If she could just find a man to marry who could be given a seat on the Small Council, and wouldn’t whisk her away to some castle, she’d marry him without complaint. Whether or not she really loved him.

**____________________**

Gendry took a long time to walk back to the small room he called a home from the Red Keep.

He was absolutely kicking himself over letting Steel nick the bracelet off of him as he slept. He should have known better than to leave it in his pocket, somewhere the monkey could get it easily, without Gendry feeling a thing.

He thought back to the look in Cat’s eye as she held her knife to his throat and groaned for an entirely different reason. A woman holding him at knifepoint should not have left him feeling aroused.

When he finally stumbled through the curtain and into his room, he was feeling too many emotions to think clearly. He was enraged with his pet monkey, he was aroused at the thought of Cat’s knife at his throat after she’d spent the night in his bed, and he was incredibly sad at the look of utter betrayal she’d given him before telling him she never wanted to see him again.

He flopped down on his bed, trying not to think of waking up to see Cat asleep in that very spot, her mouth had been parted slightly and her face had been peaceful. He was dragged out of his thoughts by Steel, the very reason he would probably never see Cat again, climbing onto his bed and looking at him quizzically.

“Stole her bracelet, then, did ‘ya?” He grumbled at his pet.

Steel gave him another look before running off to the corner of the room and pulling the golden band from behind a pile of old junk in the corner. Slowly, he brought it back to Gendry, offering it to him sheepishly.

“Steel,” Gendry groaned. “There are people we do steal from and people we don’t. The pretty girl who spent the night in our house is unquestionably someone we don’t.”

 _If a monkey could blush,_ Gendry thought. _Surely Steel would be as red as an apple._

Gendry took the bracelet in his hands and groaned, throwing himself back down onto the bed and closing his eyes. Cat had told him that the bracelet had been her mother’s, and though she hadn’t expressly said it, he figured her mother was probably dead.

He wondered if she’d known her mother well before she died. Gendry couldn’t even remember his mother’s name, Master Mott had not known it either. He remembered her singing him songs and her hair glowing yellow in the sun, but almost nothing else. Sometimes he could fleetingly picture her face, but even those moments didn’t last. His most concrete memories of his mother weren’t memories of her at all, but rather of the songs she’d sing him as she put him to sleep at night. She’d sang him songs about a knight rescuing a beautiful princess from atop a tall tower and about bears dancing with fair maidens. But Gendry’s favorite song had been about a lord and his lover sneaking off to live a life in the forest. Whenever she’d sung him that song, he’d imagined himself running among trees and splashing in a river, and it had been enough to distract him from the noises of the tavern they lived in and the fact that his stomach had never once been full.

He hummed the song to himself now, rubbing his fingers over the pattern stamped into the bracelet and feeling sorry for himself. Never once in his life had he desired a woman the way he’d desired Cat. Sure, Gendry had _desired_ women before, he’d grown up a boy on his own after all. Though he had never truly loved a girl, he was a greenboy no longer. There had been the girl at the inn on the Kingsroad, the daughter of one of the bakers on the other side of Flea Bottom, and the whore he’d spent an evening with in the brothel he lived beside. But he didn’t desire Cat in that way, or he didn’t _only_ desire her in that way. He’d laughed with her even when they were on the run from Goldcloaks, he’d argued with her though he’d only known her for a few hours, and when he’d rolled over onto his side that morning and seen her asleep in his bed, he’d felt warm and happy in a way he had never experienced.

 _Too late for that,_ he thought. She thinks you stole her bracelet. _What could you do to possibly make it up to her? Sneak into the palace and find her?_

He sat up abruptly. _That was it!_ It wouldn’t be hard at all to sneak into the palace, and once he was there it would be easy enough to ask a servant where the princess’s quarters were. Cat would likely be there and if not, he’d find her. She’d get her mother’s bracelet back and he’d get to see her again. This time, he’d be sure to charm her more than argue with her.

“Steel, you stupid monkey, get up. We need to go to Hot Pie and borrow a bread basket.”

**____________________**

Tyrion Lannister had many reasons to despise his lord father.

Since the day of his youngest son's birth, the same day his beloved wife had died to bring his son into the world, Tywin Lannister had looked on his lastborn child with thinly veiled hatred. Tyrion had grown up being called a monster, mocked and ridiculed by his father and sister for simply existing. Even now, well past the age at which a man should be making decisions for himself, Tywin had an ironclad grip on Tyrion’s life.

If there was one thing Tyrion did admire about his father, though, it was his pragmatic ambition. Tywin Lannister did not take fools lightly. He knew where he wanted to go and he knew just how to get himself there. His loyalty was to his family, his house, and himself.

So, when Tyrion had heard that his father was in search of a magical item that granted wishes, he’d believed it to be silly kitchen gossip.

Now, though, he wasn’t quite so sure.

“Aye, m’lord,” the guard at the Black Cells confirmed. “One of Lord Tywin’s men was down here for the prisoner three nights ago. Said the trial was moved up.”

“Thank you very much, Ser Daemon.” Tyrion said as he tossed the man a small pouch of coins. “For your troubles.”

The walk back through the palace was long, even for someone whose legs weren’t so stunted as Tyrion’s, but the extra time allowed him to think. His father had been steadily taking prisoners from the Black Cells almost twice weekly for nearly four moons now. Before that he’d had a monthly shipment of offenders sent in from Casterly Rock. He’d told his family that he was simply making room for some of the more violent offenders on the Rock, as all the prisoners he’d brought to King’s Landing were common thieves or street-rats.

Tyrion had been to Casterly Rock on his father’s behalf just a few weeks prior, though. Just before the shipments of prisoners had stopped. He’d snuck into the cells one night and noticed them suspiciously empty. Whatever his father was up to, it was not going to help crime in Casterly Rock.

Tyrion was still trying to figure out what his father was doing with these prisoners when he heard them. Two voices just inside the staircase that led to the Tower of the Hand.

“My Lord,” said a voice Tyrion did not recognize. It was a man speaking, he was sure, but otherwise, there was nothing to identify who he was. “I know that this boy failed, but there is nobody left in the Black Cells who will not be missed. Surely, given a few days time, we can find some more prisoners suitable to the task.”

Tyrion was not at all surprised when his father’s voice answered. “We should be sending someone into the cave every night!” There was a sigh of dissatisfaction from Tywin, one Tyrion knew well, and a long pause. “Very well, you and the men have three days to find me another person to send in, however, if you can’t we will start taking them from the streets. Start in Flea Bottom, nobody will miss a beggar child.”

Then, Tyrion heard their footsteps as they ascended the stairs to the top of the tower and his family’s quarters. Tyrion paused, unsure whether to follow his father and the man and try to hear more or to go about his day and pretend he’d heard nothing.

Whatever he chose to do, Tyrion knew he needed to get into his father's private quarters. There he’d be able to find any plans regarding caves and prisoners his father had. He would have to be exceedingly careful, though. If he was caught, the punishment from his father would be most unpleasant.

He needed to find Lord Varys.

**____________________**

“I am telling you, Sansa, Lord Tywin can make almost anybody on the Council obey his direct wishes. I’ve even found myself feeling the urge to bow to his command more than once, no matter how much I disagreed with what he was asking me to do. The only thing that stops him is your father's interference. Even a man as powerful as Tywin Lannister knows better than to question the king.”

Sansa sighed as she set her son down on the floor to play with a wooden wolf. Elyas was nearing his first nameday, and, though Sansa was elated at each new milestone he achieved, she ached to hold a small babe to her chest once again. “Pod, dear, Lord Tywin is a very powerful and intimidating man. It does not surprise me that many of those on the council bow to his will, but you mustn’t be one of them. Father trusts you and loves you like his own son. He needs men on his Small Council who will not be intimidated by the Hand.”

Podrick sighed. “I know, Sans. I just can’t help it sometimes. I’m not a Lord of anything, not really. I don’t have any great victories in battle, and really I’ve only won a few tourneys. The best things I’ve done in my life have been loving you and fathering Elyas.”

Sansa's heart swelled at his words. It had taken Podrick a full year of knowing her to speak his mind with her, and even longer still to do so without stumbling through his words. When they’d been nearly three and ten it had taken him a full minute to get out that he planned to ask her father for her hand when she came of age to be betrothed. Most of the best things he said, he said without realizing how much his words meant.

“Podrick, you are a brave, kind, honorable man. You’ve been a wonderful husband. You went before the King and the Small Council as nothing but a knight to ask my father to wed me. You spent countless hours studying books of law when Father appointed you to the Small Council. You make just decisions with great care for the people those decisions affect. You love our son more fiercely than anyone I’ve ever known.” Sansa places a hand lovingly on her husband's cheek. “My family adores and respects you. Our son is not yet a year old, but I can tell he loves and admires you. _I love and admire you._ ”

Pod sighed and closed his eyes. Sansa sometimes forgot that he hadn’t grown up with a true family. His father had died and his mother abandoned him when he was quite young. He’d been living with a family member, though the man hadn’t really loved him, until he too died and Pod was sent to Tywin Lannister so the Lord could decide what to do with him. Sansa had met him after he’d become a squire in the castle and she’d spent years getting him to open up to her and become her friend, then something more. She could tell her words reassured him more than he’d care to admit.

“I’m sure if Tywin keeps bothering you,” Sansa continued. “Arya and Rickon would be more than happy to sheep-shift him.”

Pod chuckled at that and opened his eyes. He stared at Sansa with such softness, that she thought she could cry. “You are the best person I have ever met. I love you more than anything.”

Sansa kissed him then. Of course, she knew he loved her, but hearing him say it never failed to make her heart swell. As a girl, she’d dreamt of marrying a prince and becoming queen or perhaps falling in love with a brave knight. She’d gotten her knight by forsaking many princes, but it wasn’t his bravery or knighthood that had made her love him. It was moments like the one they were sharing now. Moments where he’d tell her how important she was to him, how much he loved her, and he’d look at her like she had hung the moon and stars in the sky.

Tywin Lannister had laughed at him when he’d asked for her hand, but her father had looked at her with careful consideration and quite a bit of love. She’d spoken out of turn then, something she would never have done to some of the most powerful men in Westeros on a regular occasion.

“Ser Podrick is good and thoughtful and kind,” she’d spoken directly to her father, but the extra ice to her tone was for Lord Tywin and the others who had looked on Podrick as if he were nothing but a fool. “He is smart and honorable. You’ve told me that I will get to approve of whomever I am to marry. He is who I agree to. Ser Podrick is the man I approve of. I will marry him, or none at all.”

Everyone, even Podrick, had looked shocked at her words. Everyone but her father, and Robb who looked more amused than anything. Ned Stark had looked at his eldest daughter with something akin to pride. “Of course, my dear, we will announce the official betrothal at court in two days time.” He’d turned to Pod then. “My daughter speaks very highly of you, Ser. Wolves are a very good judge of character, and I believe from what we’ve just seen, everyone here would agree that Sansa is a true wolf.”

It had been nearly four years since that day. Her and Pod had been married a year and a half later, once in a ceremony in the Sept of Baelor and again at her family’s ancestral home of Winterfell as they stood in the Godswood. A little over another year later, they had welcomed their first child. He’d forsaken the tradition of hunting during the birth, though Robert Baratheon had berated him for it. He’d told Sansa that, while he couldn’t stand to see her in any pain, he would not be out in the woods whilst she was left to suffer through the labor alone. Nor would he miss watching his child draw their first breath. The tears in his eyes as he’d held his son for the very first time had made Sansa fall in love with him even further, though she hadn’t thought it possible. When Robert Baratheon had passed, and the Small Council was in need of a new Master of Law, her father has asked for Podrick. He knew what a smart and honorable man he was, and he’d been elated to have someone like him fill the position.

“I knew you were a good man the second Sansa spoke for you the day you asked for her hand.” He’d said, Podrick was in a state of shock while Sansa was beaming with pride. “You’ve proven it time and time again as I’ve watched you love and care for Sansa and your son. You’ll make a fine Master of Law. My daughter is a wolf and you have the makings of one too.”

She sighed as she kissed him again, calming his worries. Tywin Lannister hadn’t wanted her to have this. Hadn’t wanted her to marry the man she loved. Hadn’t wanted her father to make him a lord. Hadn’t wanted to allow him to move up in the world. If he’d had his way, Pod would still be a squire or a hedge knight and Sansa would have been married to a Prince from a faraway land and shipped off to his castle, out of Lord Tywin’s way.

But Sansa was a wolf. She may have favored the Tully side of her family, with her red hair and blue eyes, but wolf blood and winter ice ran through her veins. The words of her family rang through her ears. Words about pack and winter. She was a wolf, and may the Gods help whoever messed with her pack.

 _Hurt my family, Tywin Lannister,_ she thought. _And winter will come for yours._

**____________________**

Arya laid in her bed and stared at the ceiling, her fingers rubbed absentmindedly at the spot on her wrist where her mother’s bracelet usually lay. It hadn’t been the fanciest piece of jewelry that she’d inherited from her mother- there were far more ornate crowns, necklaces, bracelets, and rings- but the bracelet had been her favorite.

Arya had always known that she looked more Stark than Tully, and as a child, she’d felt like an outsider within her own family. Her brother Robb had thought himself too old to play with her, Sansa had made fun of her and looked on in disdain whenever Arya did something she deemed unladylike, Bran had been nice to her but even he favored the Tully side of their family more than her, and Rickon had been little more than a babe. The only one she truly got on with was Jon. His being a bastard had made no difference to Arya, she was nice to him and loved him more so than she did any of her other siblings. He and she had looked more alike than her and any of the others. One day- when Jon was off hunting with Robb and Father, and Bran was busy with his swordplay lessons, and Rickon was being entertained by a Septa- Arya had tried to spend time with Sansa and her friend, Jeyne Poole. She’d sat by the fire, working on her stitches, when Jeyne came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. It had been some of Arya’s best work, truly, but that was not saying much. She’d never been able to keep her stitches straight, much less make any actual images from them. The direwolf she’d been trying to stitch into the fabric looked less like a wolf and more like an ink spill, but she had been trying. That hadn’t mattered to Jeyne and Sansa, though.

“Arya,” Jeyne wrinkled her nose in disgust. “What in the Seven is _that_?”

Sansa had come over then, too, and looked on Arya’s needlework with poorly concealed scorn. “Arya, it’s like you don’t even _try_ to be a lady. Who in all of the Seven Kingdoms will ever want to marry a lady who can’t even do simple needlework? It is already bad enough that you insist on sneaking around the palace, practicing with swords and dirtying your dresses.”

“Nobody, not even a bastard or a peasant from Flea Bottom, would ever want to wed Arya Horseface.” Jeyne exclaimed, laughing along with Sansa.

Arya had gotten so angry, she’d thrown her needlework in Jeyne’s face and stormed out of the room. She didn’t know how many hours had passed before her mother had found her, lying in bed in her chambers with tears dried on her face.

“Arya, dear,” Her mother cooed as she pulled Arya’s head onto her lap and stroked her hair. “What’s happened?”

Arya broke down in tears as she told her mother the whole story. “I was trying this time, Mother. I was really trying, but it was not good enough for Sansa and Jeyne. They made fun of my stitches and-and-and,” she began to sob harder, struggling to speak. “They said not even a bastard from Flea Bottom would want to marry Arya Horseface.”

Her mother sucked in a breath at the name. “They called you that name?”

Arya nodded.

“I will be speaking with Sansa and Jeyne, possibly even to Vayon, don’t you worry little one,” Her mother assured her. “Any man would be lucky to have you, no matter what Sansa and Jeyne say. One day, when you are older, there will be offers from lords and princes all over Westeros and Essos and the rest of the known world. You will find someone to wed, do not worry.”

Arya sat up then. “What if I don’t want to wed a lord or a prince? What if I don't want to marry anyone at all?”

Catelyn Stark chuckled, her daughter was not yet ten and had shown no interest in boys or romance yet, but she knew she would one day. “One day you will. You will meet a man who is so kind, strong, and handsome that you will fall in love with him. Your father and I will let you choose whomever you marry, and we will make sure you are happy and loved. We will find you a good match.”

Arya had wanted to tell her mother that she didn’t care about men being handsome or strong. Kindness was nice, but Arya would rather not marry at all. But Catelyn was hugging her and stroking her hair, which she so rarely did. Arya knew it was because she pretended not to need her mother, but still, sometimes it hurt her to see that Rickon and Bran got more attention than her.

“Sometimes,” Arya began, her voice so soft that she surprised even herself. “I feel as though I don’t belong in this family. I do not look like any of you. Robb barely speaks to me, Sansa hates me, the boys are too young to understand how I feel. Sometimes, I feel as though you gave birth to the real Arya Stark and someone switched me and her when we were babes, as some sort of cruel jest. I feel like she is out there somewhere, with perfect stitches and perfect hair and clean dresses, and that if she were here instead of me you would all love her more.”

Catelyn pulled back and looked Arya in the eyes. Her face had been so serious that Arya could not help but listen to her words very carefully and take them into her heart. “You are my daughter, Arya Stark. Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, daughter of Winterfell. You are a Stark, a direwolf, but you have just as much Tully blood in you as you do Stark blood, you have just as much fish in you as you do wolf. The words of my house are ‘Family, Duty, Honor’. Family comes first, before duty, honor, or anything else. You are _my_ daughter. You were born to me on one of the coldest days of summer, whilst we were visiting Winterfell. It is no wonder you look so much like a Stark, you were the only one of my children to be born in your father’s home. But you are my daughter, I could never love anyone as much as I love you.”

Arya cried again at her mother’s words, but this time they were tears of being loved and accepted. Catelyn pulled Arya into her arms again and kissed her head. Then she removed her bracelet from her wrist- a golden band stamped with a wolf and a trout over and over again- and placed it on Arya’s. “You are just as much a Tully as you are a Stark, and if anyone tells you otherwise, look at this bracelet and be reminded.”

A year and a half later, when Catelyn Stark had been killed protecting her sons on the Kingsroad, Arya had been given much of her mother’s jewels, but nothing had held such a place in her heart as the golden bracelet had.

 _And now it is gone,_ Arya thought sadly. _Gendry has probably sold it for coin by now._

Thinking of Gendry brought on a whole new flurry of emotions. She had looked at him and felt something, in the pit of her stomach, like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. She had wanted to spend as much time with him as she possibly could, so much so that she had spent the night in his bed. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, she had wanted to stay up and argue with him, talk to him about life in Flea Bottom, joke with him, but as soon as she’d laid in his bed the exhaustion she’d felt from the days events had been overpowering and she’d fallen into a dreamless sleep. She still felt those butterflies now, as she thought of waking up to the sound of the bells and seeing him shirtless and watching her, but they were muted slightly by her anger.

Anger and betrayal, really. She had trusted him. She had been more honest with him than she had been with anyone. Well, she may have given him a false name and told him she was a handmaiden, but the other things she had said were nothing but true. She had not even told Mina about feeling imprisoned in her own home, but with Gendry she had felt like she could be honest and he would understand. She had relished the feeling of his hand, rough with callouses and big enough to envelope hers completely, in hers on the way back to the Red Keep. They’d barely spoken, but she had enjoyed his company as they ran through the city nonetheless. That all came crashing down when they made it to the servant’s gate. He’d done a good enough job of pretending to search for the bracelet. He’d done so well, in fact, that Arya had waited patiently for him to remember where he’d put it. But when he had started to check his pockets again, she’d known he had stolen it. She had her dagger against his throat quick as a snake, but she couldn’t bring herself to kill him. She’d killed before, once when she’d been attacked on the Kingsroad by an older boy on his way to the Night’s Watch and she’d killed two men when they’d snuck into the castle to try to kidnap her during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Those times, though, she’d only killed out of necessity. It had been their lives or hers. She couldn’t bring herself to kill just because somebody had stolen a bracelet from her. The thought of killing Gendry, who had protected her and risked his hand for her without even knowing her, had been enough to make her stomach roil. Instead, she’d yelled at him and told him she never wanted to see him again. She’d called him a liar, a thief, a bastard. He had truly flinched as if she’d punched him at the last one.

That memory hurt, though, so she closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine herself laying in his bed. He was shirtless again, but this time he was in the bed beside her. The talked and argued and laughed. Arya thought about this as she laid in her bed, waiting to be called to dinner, and eventually, she drifted into dreams of her and Gendry running through the city, laughing.

 

**____________________**

The guards at the servant’s gate paid him no mind as he walked in with his large basket stuffed with loaves of bread. Hot Pie had been reluctant to steal anything from the bakery, even the stale loaves of nice bread Ulmar had him make in case anybody who came into the shop had a few coins extra to spend. They never did.

Once inside the castle, though, things became somewhat more difficult. He found a pretty girl in the kitchens who batted her eyelashes at him and pretended to be a groom that was new to the stables. She’d taken in his attire- he had spent a few of his coppers to bathe in one of the bathhouses before making his way to the Keep, but there had been nothing he could do about the dirt on his clothes- and her eyes gave away her doubt. He’d been able to talk his way out of that easily enough. He’d spoken about how his father had worked there his whole life, but he’d passed and the job had been given to Gendry. The King had asked him to come up to his solar as he wished to offer his condolences on his father’s passing and welcome him to the castle himself, he had told her. It had been an easy enough lie, he’d heard one of the washing girls in Flea Bottom speak of how King Eddard had done the same for her lover when his father had died.

“If you could please just tell me how to get there,” he’d pleaded with her. “I’d be in your debt.”

She had given him instructions on how to get to the King’s private meeting quarters in his solar. “Once you enter the family’s quarters, there’ll be a short corridor through the first doorway to the right. There’s four doors. The first one on the left side is Princess Arya’s room, the next one is empty, as is the first one on the right, and the last one is where the King takes his private meetings. I’ve brought many a platter up there late into the night, better hope he’s not too busy.”

Gendry thanked her kindly and set off into the castle. He was glad for serving girls and their tendencies to gossip and speak at length about anything. It had given him just the information he had needed without him having to ask someone and reveal himself. If Cat wasn’t with the princess- no, he would not think about that. Cat would be in the princess’s chambers, likely helping her ready herself for bed. She had to be.

He’d gotten lost a few times on the way there. Twice he’d turned down the wrong corridors and had to double back the way he came. He’d gone up the wrong staircase, only turning around when he saw the symbol of the Hand of the King and realized he was journeying up into the Tower of the Hand.

Finally, though, he was making his way down a long corridor that held the royal family’s private apartments. He pushed open a heavy oak door at the end of the corridor and made his way into another longer, wider corridor. A few paces down and to the right was a small doorway that led to a corridor with four smaller nondescript doors. Had Gendry just happened upon this corridor by himself, he would have figured it for a servant’s wing and moved on, but he’d followed the serving girl's directions exactly and the first door to his left was where Cat would be. He could barely contain himself, though he did long enough to fish his hand into his pocket and make sure the bracelet was still tucked there safely before he was knocking.

 _This is it,_ he thought. _Gods, I hope she doesn’t kill me when she sees me._

**____________________**

A knocking at her door had woken her up.

Arya sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes. The sunlight that had shone through her open window when she fell asleep was considerably dimmer and the sky was painted pink and orange as the sun set.

She knew she must have missed supper, Mina had hopefully come up with an excuse and gone to the kitchens to bring her a tray of food.

“Mina,” she yelled towards the door, swinging herself out of the bed and making to open it. “Thank the gods, I’m starvin-”

It was not Mina standing outside her door. No. It was _Gendry_. Arya blinked and rubbed her eyes as if she was imagining things, but when she opened them he was still there, smiling sheepishly at her.

“Hullo,” he grinned as he took her in.

Her breath caught for a moment at his crooked smile, dimples showing. He’d shaved and bathed since that morning, though he was still in the same clothes he’d been wearing as they’d run from the Goldcloaks the day before. His hands were behind his back, his head tilted slightly to the side as he watched her look him up and down.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here, Gendry?” She yelped and pulled him into her room, checking to make sure nobody had spotted him before shutting the door.

Gendry looked around the room for a moment and took it all in. She could tell he was intimidated by the size and grandeur of it. Hells, the little alcove in which she took her baths and kept her washing basin was nearly the size of the room he lived in. Instead of dirt floors, beautiful tiles of gray and white were laid out in a pattern all along the floor. Her bed had four posters and a canopy hanging over it. Both of her large windows were thrown wide open, trying to catch a rare breeze, and lacked the bars the tiny one in his room had.

“The princess has the nicest room I have ever seen.’’ Gendry breathed. “Where is she?”

 _Of course,_ Arya thought. _He still thinks I’m Cat._

“She is taking dinner with her family.” Arya was not at all surprised with how easily the lie came to her, she was well practiced. “You need to tell me what you are doing in the castle, Gendry.”

“Right,” he said shakily, running his fingers through his black hair. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her bracelet. “I found this when I got back to the room this morning. Seems Steel had nicked it from me as I slept.”

Arya stepped closer and snatched the bracelet from his hands. Her mother’s bracelet. He’d snuck into the castle, evading guards and risking his freedom again, to bring it back to her. “Your monkey stole it?”

Gendry smirked. “Seems you should have asked me a few more questions before you held a knife to my throat this mornin’. I had nothin’ to do with your bracelet being stolen.”

She scoffed at that. “He’s your monkey!”

He shrugged. “Still just a monkey.”

Arya wished she could yell at him a little while longer, but the look he was giving her made all the feelings of betrayal and anger she’d spent her day stewing in vanish. He’d come back, he hadn’t wanted anything from her, he just simply wanted to return the one thing he knew she truly valued. She took the few steps to close the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his stomach.

“Thank you, Gendry.” She spoke into his chest.

“Of course, m’lady.” He seemed surprised, but he wrapped his arms around her all the same.

They stayed like that for a short while. Arya refused to pull away, knowing that if she did he’d surely see the tears welling in her eyes. She had just blinked them back when there was a knock at her door, startling them and making them jump apart.

“Quick,” Arya whispered to him, pulling him by his wrist across the room. “Stay behind here.”

He nodded and ducked behind the dressing screen in the corner. She quickly pulled the dress she’d worn to court earlier over his shadow that was showing through the screen, hoping it would be enough to hide him while she dismissed whoever was at her door.

She opened the door just wide enough to stand in the doorway, blocking one of the serving girls entrance to her chambers. She was one of the prettier ones, Arya had spoken to her quite a few times while at feasts and dinners with her family. She’d even threatened a few of the handsy lords with a gelding on her behalf whenever their behavior became inappropriate. She was holding up a tray of dried meats and cheeses, accompanied by a loaf of bread and two pitchers of wine and water.

“Princess Arya,” she bowed her head respectfully. “Mina came into the kitchens to tell us you had slept through dinner. She requested you be brought a tray of food, though she’d thought you would still be sleeping.”

Arya took the tray. “Thank you, Meredyth. I had just awoken a few moments ago and I am famished.”

“Oh,” Meredyth’s eyes glimmered and Arya knew she was going to hear some gossip from down in the kitchens. She really did not have time to trade stories back and forth, not with Gendry hiding nearly in plain sight. “I hope that groom from the kitchens didn’t wake you. He stopped me to ask directions to your father’s private meeting quarters. Said his father had worked in the stables and the king wanted to give his condolences. Did you see him, by chance?”

Arya was impressed by the story Gendry had come up with. Her father was the type of king to meet personally with the staff whose parents had passed, though how he’d known that she wasn’t quite sure. “No I did not get the chance. I’m sure he’s in with Father now.”

“A shame,” the girl sighed wistfully. “He had the most beautiful blue eyes and dark hair. He was so tall and quite handsome, really. Could tell he was a strong one too, and those _hands_.”

Arya had to cough loudly to cover up the sounds of Gendry’s laughs. Suddenly, Meredyth turned bright red and curtsied. “A thousand pardons, your Grace, I spoke out of turn.”

Arya was flushing as well. “No need to apologize, Meredyth. Thank you for bringing me dinner. Goodnight.”

The girl nodded and rushed off, obviously embarrassed to have spoken like that in front of her.

“You can come out now, you stupid bull.” She called to Gendry, who was still laughing quietly behind the dressing screen, as she set her tray down.

His laughter died when she spoke and he came out from his terrible hiding spot with his head bowed. He didn’t say a word as he stood before her.

“Well,” Arya said, her hands on her hips. “Are you just going to stand there like an idiot, or will you speak?”

She saw him roll his eyes, but he bowed even lower. “A thousand pardons, _your Grace_ , I did not wish to speak out of turn.”

The way he said it, _your Grace_ , made Arya pause. She hadn’t thought she’d ever see him again, much less that he would be in her room in the palace, bowing to her. He couldn’t be mad at her, _not truly,_ but the way he spoke made her think otherwise.

“Oh, stand up you great big idiot.” She strode over to him and slapped his shoulder. “You don’t need to bow. Not to me.”

Gendry stood to his full height, towering over her. She had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes, and when she did, she almost regretted it. There was a fury there she’d never seen before. “Oh, but I do, _your Grace_ . I am a _bastard_ , after all. Nothing more than a _common thief_ , a _liar_.” His words were like venom. “I should not even be in the presence of Princess Arya Stark, nor alone with her in her bedchamber. I’d be made a eunuch if I were to be caught here.”

She looked up at him defiantly and wrapped a hand around his wrist. “I would never let them geld you, Gendry. And you’re no thief or liar, I should not have said those things. You are honest and kind, you risked your hand and your freedom for a girl you didn’t even know yesterday. You wouldn’t let me walk back to the Red Keep by myself, hells, you were willing to risk your life to walk me back after evenfall. You’re a _good_ man, Gendry, and I am sorry I made you doubt that.”

It felt strange giving such a sincere apology. Arya rarely did things she felt the need to truly apologize for. But offending the lords at court by speaking her mind on the politics of Westeros or scandalizing Sansa and Jeyne Poole by taking water dancing lessons instead of ballroom dancing lessons was much different than making Gendry feel lesser. She wished desperately that she could go back to that morning and change everything, but then maybe he wouldn’t be in her chambers with her now.

“Still just a bastard, though,” He grumbled, still refusing to look her in the eye. Though the red tint to his cheeks gave away how her words had affected him. “And I am a thief. I steal from people all the time, people with less than you or a handmaiden.”

Arya let go of his wrist and moved her hand to cup his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “You don’t steal for the fun of it, Gendry. You don’t enjoy it. I can tell that much just by hearing you talk about it. You steal because you have to. I’d rather you steal what you need to survive than starve to death on the streets.”

The look in Gendry’s eyes was almost more than Arya could bear. He looked at her like she was soft, like she hadn’t held a knife to his throat that morning. She swallowed thickly. “Besides, almost all the best men I’ve ever known were bastards.”

He smiled then, a full, true, crooked, dimpled grin. His hand moved up to cup her face. “Aye, and you meet a lot of bastards here in the palace, m’lady?”

She laughed and spun away from him, towards the food on the table. “Many a bastard have made it a habit to sneak up to my chambers at sunset. It gets truly tiresome.”

He laughed a deep and refreshing laugh and followed her. “I only came to return your bracelet. I’ll need to be leaving anyway.”

Suddenly Arya wasn’t laughing anymore. She’d only just seen him again, and now Gendry was talking about leaving.

“I don’t want you to go yet.” She surprised herself by saying the words aloud.

She could tell she’d surprised Gendry, too, because he looked nearly startled at the words. “If I stay much longer, a guard will catch me and throw me in the Black Cells, then you would truly never see me again.”

“Are you trying to tell me you plan to make more visits to my chambers, Gendry?” Arya smirked at him.

He leaned forward then, and plucked the pin Mina had used to pull the hair from Arya’s shoulder out of its place, letting the brown locks flow in waves down her back. “Aye, I’d wager you’ll be wanting this back tomorrow night.”

“You’ll truly be back tomorrow?” She asked. “You’ll come to see me again?”

Gendry kept his face close to hers as he spoke. “Do you trust me?”

Arya’s eyes filled with mirth, remembering the market and jumping from one roof to another. “No.”

“Well, maybe you should start.” He grinned back at her. “Goodnight, m’lady.”

He was nearly to the door when Arya spoke again. “Wait!”

Gendry turned to her with his eyebrows raised in question.

“At least stay long enough to eat with me,” she rushed out. “Dinner is surely ending by now. The solar and the rest of the castle will be full of my family and the lords and ladies making their way back to their chambers. You’ll likely be caught.”

“Arya,” Gendry sighed, running his hands through his hair again. She decided she quite liked it when he did that. “I can eat when I get home, and I really should be getting home. The streets aren’t safe at night.”

“Are you telling me you have a better meal waiting for you there?” She countered. “I didn’t know Steel was trained to cook as well as kill.”

He grinned, but his voice was a groan when he spoke. “Arya.”

She stood from her spot at the table and walked over to a chest that was pushed against the wall. She opened it and fished out one of her spare daggers, it had been Robb’s before his fifteenth nameday, when he’d been given a Valeryian Steel one to carry instead. The grip was too big for Arya, but she was not given weapons nearly as often as her brothers. Even Rickon had a better collection than her. “Take this, it’s too big for me anyway. If anyone tries to harm you on your walk home, stick ‘em with the pointy end.”

Gendry suddenly looked deeply uncomfortable, though Arya was not quite sure why. “Arya, that’s castle-forged steel. It cost more than anything I own.”

“So?” Arya was still not understanding his discomfort.

“So,” Gendry’s eyes flashed again. “I don’t want your pity or your expensive dagger.”

Realization dawned on her then. He thought she was pitying him because he was poor, offering him something she knew he could never afford to make herself feel better. She had to think quickly to calm his rage, before he stormed out.

“Pity?” She let out a quick chuckle. “I’m not giving it to you out of _pity_ , stupid. I need you alive. You’re carrying a golden hairpin on you through Flea Bottom in the dead of night! My hairpin! I’d quite like to see it safely returned, and it will not be if someone kills you dead for it! I fully expect this dagger back too, whenever you decide to start sneaking into my chambers just because you want to, instead of stealing my nicest things as an excuse!”

Gendry smiled again, all the anger gone from his face. “No gifts, then?”

“No gifts.” She agreed.

He considered her for a moment before stepping forward to take the dagger. “I suppose I could stay and eat with ‘ya.”

And he did.

It was nearly two hours later when he was making his way to the door, Arya had given him more than his share of the food on her platter, but they’d brought her more than she could ever eat in one sitting and she, unlike Gendry, knew where her next meal was coming from.

Arya grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug before he could get completely out of the doorway. “I will likely be at dinner if you come back at the same time tomorrow. You should, it is the easiest time to sneak through the castle without being caught. You can wait here for me, bar the doors and I’ll yell in to let you know it’s me when I come back from supping with my family.”

Gendry nodded.

“Please take care on your way home.” She practically begged.

He sighed contentedly into her hair. “I will, milady. No need to worry ‘bout me.”

They pulled apart, but he lingered in the doorway for a moment longer. She allowed herself one more moment to look at him before shooing him away. “Go, you big bull, before one of the guards walks past and catches you!”

He nodded and turned away, walking through the door and out into the corridor. Arya watched him leave and smiled to herself when he turned around to catch one last glimpse of her before he turned the corner and was out of sight.

**........**

Arya awoke the next morning to Mina standing over her bed, watching her inquisitively.

“Good morning, Mina,” Arya said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she sat up in her bed. “How was your sleep?”

Mina huffed, rolling her eyes. “Do not play the fool with me, Arya Stark. I noticed that bracelet back on your wrist as soon as I opened the door this morning. Did you sneak off to Flea Bottom in the dead of night and steal it off the poor fool who took it from you to begin with?”

Mina’s accusations brought the real events of the previous night to the forefront of Arya’s mind and she flushed. The tray she and Gendry had eaten from was still on the table by the window. The dress she’d worn to meet Prince Aegon was still draped over the dressing screen where she’d moved it to conceal Gendry from the serving girl. Her bracelet was back on her wrist, but her hair was a mess from sleeping with it loose around her shoulders, and her hairpin was nowhere to be found. “I did not leave my chambers last night, Mina.”

“Then how in the Seven Hells did you get your mother’s bracelet back?” Mina scoffed.

Arya pulled her handmaiden and best friend down to sit with her on the bed, a wild look in her eye. “You must promise not to tell a soul, Mina. No gossiping with the kitchen girls or whispering it to one of the grooms over your pillows.”

“Of course, Arya,” Mina implored. “By the gods, did you kill him for it?”

Arya giggled. She couldn’t even remember the last time such a girlish sound had left her mouth. “No, Mina, never! I- well, Gendry- he brought it back to me.”

She felt her cheeks heat up as Mina’s eyes went wide. “He snuck into your private chambers?”

Arya nodded.

“Arya,” Mina cried, though her wide grin gave away that she was not quite so scandalized as she pretended to be. “You would so quickly sully your honor for a boy from Flea Bottom? What of Prince Aegon and his beautiful violet eyes? Whatever will your father say?”

The girls laughed together. Arya hadn’t always appreciated Mina’s flair for the dramatics, but today it made her feel light and happy to joke around with a friend.

“He did nothing to my honor, Mina, he only returned my bracelet and ate my food.”

“So, the man you told me about yesterday, the one who you said was _stubborn as a bull, oh so strong, and did whatever he pleased,_ ” Arya scrunched her nose at Mina’s imitation of herself the day before. “Risked life and limb to sneak into your bedchambers under the noses of some of the best knights in all of the known world, and he _didn’t_ ravish you until morning?”

Arya’s cheeks reddened even further. “He doesn’t want to bed me, Mina, he only wanted to return my mother’s bracelet to me. I’m sure he has a lover in Flea Bottom, a washing girl, or a shopkeeper’s daughter, who warms his bed at night much better than I ever could.”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your tone. Princess Arya?”

“No!” Arya responded, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “I was just thinking aloud is all.”

Thankfully, Mina decided to change the topic of their conversation, though the knowing look on her face made Arya nervous. “Lord Dayne has requested that you break your fast with him in the gardens this morning, if you so desire. Otherwise, Lord Frey has also requested your presence as he and his siblings dine in the Great Hall.”

Arya did not desire to spend the morning eating with Ned Dayne, Lord of Starfall. He’d been staying in the castle for nearly six moons now, hoping one day Arya would wake up and decide his offer of marriage suddenly suited her. He was actually one of the best suitors she’d had, he was handsome, kind, and sweet, if slightly boring. Her desire not to see Ned was far outweighed by her disdain for Elmar Frey. His face was nearly as ugly as his attitude. And while Arya did not think of herself as vain or shallow, his lack of intelligence coupled with his absolute belief that women were only meant to stitch, bear children, and look pretty made Arya wish he’d give up trying for her hand and go back to the Twins.

“Can’t I eat with my family?” Arya sighed as Mina began to brush the knots and tangles from her hair.

“Princess Sansa and Lord Podrick have taken a private meal in their chambers,” Mina explained. “King Eddard and Prince Robb broke fast before dawn as they prepared for the Small Council meeting that is taking place this morning. Rickon is already out in the training yard and Bran had been brought to the library to study. There is no reasonable excuse to refuse both of them.”

“So, you are telling me I have to choose one of them?” Arya was nothing if not blunt in the mornings.

“I’m afraid so, Arya.”

She sighed again. The last meal she’d taken had been with Gendry, and Arya seriously doubted the company of Ned Dayne or Elmar Frey would rival how wonderful his had been. “Send word to Lord Edric that I will meet him in the gardens as soon as I’ve finished dressing.”

Mina gave Arya a knowing smile. “Of course, do you want me to finish your hair? I can’t seem to find your pin anywhere.”

“No, Mina,” Arya wished that Gendry had just stayed last night. Then she’d have a true excuse to stay as far away from her suitors as possible. “I’ll finish getting ready myself.”

Arya chose a simple blue dress to wear for the day. Though she did tend to loathe wearing them whenever she snuck around the palace, it was much easier to avoid unwanted eyes at court if she dressed the part of a princess. She braided her hair in one long plait that fell down her back. Sansa would surely disapprove of such a simple style for a princess, but Arya couldn’t bring herself to care.

She sighed as she left her chambers, knowing she was facing a very long day.

Overall, her meal with Ned was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. He had told her stories of Dorne and his uncle Arthur Dane, the Sword of the Morning. She had loved to hear about the legendary swordsman since she was a young girl, her father had known him, but refused to tell her many of his greatest achievements.

On her way back into the castle, Elmar had tried to stop her, demanding to know why she’d chosen to break her fast with Ned and refused the company of him and his sisters.

Arya shrugged. “He had asked me first, and I prefer his stories to the gossip your sisters tell me.”

Elmar had seethed, but the guards that were escorting her back to her family’s apartments had their hands on the hilts of their swords, and Elmar, like the coward he always had been, had held his tongue, refusing to speak his mind or defend his sisters. “Perhaps tomorrow then, Princess.”

Arya laughed as she strode away. “I would not dare hold my breath, my lord.”

She had quickly changed into breeches and a tunic after her encounter with Elmar, and rushed to her lessons with her dancing instructor, Syrio Forrell. He’d made her work extraordinarily hard that day as if he knew she had too much energy coursing through her. By the time she had made it to Sansa’s chambers for lunch, she had been so sweaty and red-faced her sister had sent her away.

“Go bathe, Arya,” Sansa had clucked, bouncing Elyas on her hip. “You truly cannot be considering eating when you are so flushed and short of breath. I’ll have something sent up to you afterwards. Truly, I wish you would just tell me when you have your dancing lessons, I know I once mocked you for them, but I see how much you enjoy them now. We will have lunch together another day.”

 _Sometimes,_ Arya thought. _Sansa can truly be a good sister. She knows me well, even if she is nothing like me._

She had bathed quickly, as Mina grumbled that she was sick of drawing her baths nearly every day. By the time Arya had eaten her lunch and plaited her hair once more, she was pacing across her room with anticipation.

“If you keep pacing the length of your room, you will dig a trench into the floor,” Mina said, not even looking up from her nails as she cleaned them.

“I can’t help it,” Arya sighed. “My entire body is filled with anticipation. How long until we can go to dinner?”

“Dinner?” Mina laughed. “Arya, you’ve just finished your midday meal no more than an hour ago. What has you so excited to see your family?”

“It’s not my family I’m excited to see,” Arya mumbled under her breath.

Or, she’d thought she had mumbled. But Mina had the hearing of Arya’s old Septa, who had been able to hear her muble even the faintest of curses during her needlework lessons. “Not your family, eh? Is that boy from Flea Bottom planning on sneaking past your father’s guards a second night?”

Arya tried to stop herself from blushing, truly she did, but it was no use when Mina questioned her. “Yes, he is.”

Mina squealed in delight, and Arya was forced to spend the rest of her time before dinner being prepped to see Gendry. Mina forced Arya back into her blue dress and clasped a small necklace around her throat, though Arya had insisted that Gendry did not care whether she wore breeches or not, or if she wore jewelry. She’d also done her hair again, leaving the entire bottom half flowing over her shoulders, but braiding the top into something so elaborate that Arya would never have chosen it for herself. All the while, she gave Arya advice on how to talk to men and explained a few things she could do with her hands and mouth that had Arya blushing like a maid. She was sure Gendry wouldn’t want her to do that to him, entirely _too_ sure. Finally, after she’d spent much too much time on her appearance, it was time to dine with her family. She ate quickly and asked to be excused as soon as she was finished, citing her exhausting water dancing lesson and desire to go to sleep.

She felt slightly self-conscious as she walked back to her chambers alone. Suddenly, her dress and hair seemed more like a costume than something she would actually wear. What would Gendry do when he saw her dressed like the lady she’d argued she wasn’t?

Apparently, laugh was the answer.

His face had screwed up and the laughter had escaped his lips almost as soon as he’d opened the door and allowed her into her chambers. Arya didn’t think she had ever flushed harder, and that made her angry.

“Oh shut up, you idiot,” she punched his arm, hard. “And help me get these ridiculous braids out of my hair.”

He did as he was told, but his eyes still shone with mirth as she turned around and held out her hand, her hair falling down her back and shoulders. “My hairpin please?”

“As m’lady commands,” Gendry smirked and pulled it out of his pocket, placing it gently into her palm.

He had reached back and unclasped her necklace from her neck before leaving that night. The night after, he’d taken her favorite book from atop her table. Then a ring her Aunt Lysa had gifted her on her fourteenth nameday. Arya eventually lost track of all the things he had taken with him in the nights that followed. She just knew it had been nearly a full moon’s turn since he’d started sneaking into her chambers. After a while, he became more and more comfortable with her and would stay later and later into the night.

Arya yawned as she watched him from her bed, her arms wrapped around her knees pulling her legs to her chest. He was sitting in her chair near the window, looking out over the city.

“It looks so peaceful from here,” He remarked, sounding as if he was in awe.

“Well it is well past midnight, Gendry,” Arya smiled. “Most everyone will be asleep by now.’’

Gendry just shook his head. “Not in Flea Bottom. The streets are never quiet, not even this late into the night. I cannot even get a good night’s rest most nights, the people in the streets are so loud.”

Arya hadn’t known that. When she had stayed at Gendry’s that first night, she had fallen asleep before any of those noises could stop her. Even now, if she had a restless night, she could usually steal away from whatever was happening in the castle to nap for a few hours the next day. “When was the last time you had a full night’s sleep, then?”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before turning to look at her. “I would reckon it was probably the night I met you.”

Arya couldn’t help her blush, she prayed he couldn’t see it in the dim light the candle on her bedside table provided. “But you slept on the floor!”

“Aye, but I’d slept in worse places before.”

She climbed out of bed and made her way over to where he sat. In the chair, slouching as he was, he had to tilt his head back just a small bit to look her in the eye. “You should not be coming here every night if it means you don’t get to sleep, Gendry.”

“I do not care about losing sleep, not if it means getting to talk to you,” Gendry said, softly. “You are the only person in this world, I think, who I can truly speak my mind with. I’d rather spend hours in this room, arguing with you, than sleep.”

Arya’s chest felt like someone was beating on it from the inside. She wanted to run, or hit him, or…

 _Gods,_ she chastised herself. _What has gotten into me?_

She thought back on the night she'd told him about his life before living on the streets. How he'd never known his father, who had given his mother a few gold dragons after he'd bedded her in the tavern she'd worked in, and nine moons later she'd birthed Gendry in that same room. He told her how she'd died when he was still quite small, and that he'd been lucky enough to be given an apprenticeship with Tobho Mott at his shop on Visenya's Hill. He didn't explain much about why he had never finished, but he did tell her that Tobho Mott had given him up when he was four and ten. He had sounded so sad when he spoke about it then, that Arya had gotten the urge to hug him close to her and assure him she would never leave him. Instead, she'd stayed in her chair across the room as he paced and tried not to run out the door as her heart fluttered in her chest.

Gendry seemed to be having the same urge to flee now because he was suddenly standing from his chair. “I really should be going, m’lady.”

Arya, as she did most nights in Gendry’s presence, did not think before she spoke. “No! I don’t want you to leave, not just yet.”

“Arya, I really should leave you to sleep. It is much too late for us to be awake.” Gendry sighed.

“So stay,” Arya rushed out. She wasn’t quite sure just what had come over her, but she felt as though she’d burst if she didn’t say what she was thinking. “At least until I fall asleep, please stay.”

She could see the pained look on his face that meant he was thinking hard. “I don’t think-”

“Don’t think, stupid. Just sit next to me until I fall asleep, and then you can slip out and return home.”

Gendry did not look convinced.

_“Please.”_

That was all it took. He sighed in defeat and sat next to her as she laid back on her bed. Soon, she was drifting off, the heat from Gendry’s body lulling her into a deep sleep.

**____________________**

Gendry knew he was fucked as soon as he woke up.

The bed beneath him was so soft, though, he was tempted to roll over and fall back to sleep. But when he made to do just that, a soft moan came from beside him and he felt Arya dig her hands into his shirt and pull herself deeper into his chest.

He was fucked.

How had he allowed himself to fall asleep? He’d stayed later than he had ever dared to before, and he had been exhausted when Arya had asked him to stay the night. Still, he had known better than to think he could sleep in the Princess’s bed and live to tell the tale. He had been all but ready to bolt from her door and out of the castle when she’d said one word that stopped him in his tracks.

In the near moon that he’d known her, he didn’t think he’d ever heard Arya Stark say _please_.

He didn’t recall falling asleep, but he knew it must have been shortly after he’d sat down. Judging by the soft morning light shining through the space between Arya’s shutters, it was just past dawn. He would have to hurry if he hoped to make it out through the kitchens without arousing suspicion.

Extracting himself from Arya’s vice-like grip had proven a challenge. He had tried not to wake her, she truly looked so peaceful as she slept, but as soon as he’d moved away her eyes had fluttered open.

“Gendry?” She asked softly.

Then she sat bolt upright. “Gendry, by the gods, what are you still doing here? You need to leave, or the guards will catch you when they come to escort my father to the Small Council Meeting.”

“Fucking hells.” He swore as he shot up out of the bed, pulling on his boots that he’d left by the table the night before.

“Go, quickly, you idiot,” She was smirking as she said it, though. “Will you be back tonight?”

Gendry nodded. “What can I take this time?”

He watched her consider him for a moment before she took off her bracelet, the same one that had started this whole sneaking into the castle business, and tossed it to him.

 

“Are you sure?” Gendry stared at her with wide eyes. Her mother’s bracelet was one of her most treasured possessions.

“I’m sure,” Arya smiled. “Now, leave! I will see you tonight and that bracelet will be back on my arm.”

Gendry nodded and turned to run out the door. He didn’t need to be told something twice.

He’d just made it out of the doors to Maegor’s Holdfast when he ran into the first guard.

“Where did you get that, boy?” The guard asked, eyeing the bracelet in his hand. Gendry watched the recognition dawn on his face when he realized the answer to his own question.

Before the guard could react, though, Gendry turned and ran down the corridor. He was fast, he had to be to live on the streets, but he also had shit luck. As soon as he rounded the corner he smacked into a trio of guards, all bearing a lion on their breastplates.

The guard from before had caught up now. “Stop the theif!”

_Oh, Gendry was so fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few notes here:
> 
> 1) sorry this is a few days late, but it is super long so hopefully, that makes up for it? i had a little bit of a block when it came to some of the transitions to bring in the important info in this chapter and there is some IMPORTANT info! look closely, there are quite a few clues as to what different plotlines will be occurring in this book and what comes next for these characters, as well as who you should be watching out for.
> 
> 2) next week's chapter might be delayed. i was supposed to be on a vacation this week, but it was rescheduled for a couple of days later and in all the panic and confusion of trying to get my money back to make a new booking, i didn't have as much time to work on chapters two and three as i'd hoped. expect chapter three and four to go up around the same time, though. probably the saturday or sunday after next depending on the wifi situation in cozumel and how much i actually sit down to write.
> 
> 3) i ship podsa in this book (and in general) bc i ship sansa/happiness and pod would treat that girl right let me tell you! (show!sansa really deserved to heal from her trauma and then get absolutely lovingly dicked down by pod and his magic cock so she could see how great sex can be with a man who is not a sociopath and who actually cares about/respects you, not to mention she totally deserved to be able to have the family she had always dreamed of) also sansa is a bamf in this fic idc what you all have to say about it. we are pouring one out for the QUEEN IN THE MFING NORTH!
> 
> 4) catelyn is also super ooc in this fic, but i'm basically just giving arya a more loving relationship w her mom and also changing catelyn helps fit the whole dead-mom-was-super-sweet storyline from aladdin.
> 
> idk if you can tell, but this fic is super self-serving. that's it. that's the tweet.


	4. The Diamond in the Rough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime gets screwed by his sister, in more ways than one. Jon and Ygritte discuss the Wall, among other more interesting topics. Aegon eggs Daenerys on. Arya and Mina take a girl's trip to Flea Bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the sake of this story (and bc it's entirely self-indulgent), the stormlands don't really exist here. the stormlands and storm's end will be the equivalent of ababwa in this au (ababwa is the kingdom aladdin makes up whilst pretending to be prince ali) so, I've renamed the land known as the stormlands to the rainlands and made rain house the castle of the baratheons. hopefully it isn't too confusing, but it shouldn't come up a bunch in the story, just occasionally.
> 
> told myself i wasn't allowed to watch stranger things until i posted this chapter and finished the next one. long story short, i know how stranger things ends, the next chapter has not been completed, and i have no self-control.

Cersei Lannister had never looked so beautiful as she did when she was underneath him. 

Jaime had known her his entire life. He’d been born into the world just minutes after her and had spent very little time since away from her. He had never known a day without the love of his twin sister. 

Some days that love was different than others. 

When they’d been children, she’d shown her love by never leaving his side. They’d eaten, taken lessons, and even slept in the same bed together every day and night. 

As they’d grown older, the way that she showed him love changed. There were stolen kisses and secret nights spent in each other’s rooms. They spent many nights fumbling together under their furs, learning each other in a way they hadn't done before. 

After she’d married Robert Baratheon they saw each other very infrequently. She’d been shipped off to his castle and spent her days and nights with him. Occasionally, Jaime would be able to convince his lord father to send him to visit Robert and his sister for a time and Cersei would sneak into his chambers. He still had no idea how nobody had noticed that the births of each of Cersei's children had corresponded with one of his visits, but he counted himself lucky.

After Robert's death, Tywin had called his daughter and her three children to King’s Landing to care for them. Robert had left a clause in his will leaving the King in charge of fostering Joffrey and preparing him for lordship. 

 _Something they’d agreed upon during the war,_ Cersei had said. _Back when Robert still believed he’d be marrying Lyanna. If one of them died, the other would take care of their heir._

Cersei had fought and fought not to be parted from her eldest son, and Tywin had convinced the king to have his daughter and her children live at Court so he could care for them. 

Cersei had thrived at Court, she had always been a skilled liar getting herself and Jaime out of the worst kinds of trouble as children, and with Jaime among the Kingsguard, they spent much of their time in the palace together. And Cersei showed him much of her love. 

“Father is planning something,” she said now as he rolled off of her. She was still breathing heavily and glowing with sweat and post-sex beauty, but she had never been one to sit in the glow of an orgasm for long. 

“You’re thinking about Father after what I’ve just done to you?” Jaime chuckled. 

She rolled her eyes at him. “He is planning something, Jaime, I know it. He has been meeting with his trusted advisors and bringing in more soldiers from Casterly Rock to serve in his guard. I’ve seen them leaving the Keep at all hours and returning straight to his private meeting chambers. Even the Gold Cloaks have been having regular meetings with him and he’s visited the Black Cells every night for the past fortnight.”

“You sound like one of Varys’ little birds,” Jaime spoke dryly. He’d never much liked knowing that the Master of Whisperers had children running around the Keep watching his every move. 

“Jaime,” Cersei turned to look up at him. “He’s been meeting with Ned Stark about Joffrey. They mean to send him back to Rain House to Stannis. They think it’s time he becomes Lord Paramount.” 

Jaime was sure that Joffrey was not remotely ready to become Lord Paramount of the Rainlands. He was still too spoiled and clung to his mother desperately whenever he did not get his way. “I’m sure Father will keep Joffrey here until he is ready to rule over the Rainlands, but he will have to go back and take the mantle from Stannis someday. He’s already betrothed and the marriage will take place within the year.”

“Don’t remind me,” Cersei groaned. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Our son, Jaime, our eldest boy. Father will ship him back to the Rainlands and I’ll never see him again. I can’t let that happen.”

“What do you mean to do about it?” Jaime asked he knew his sister would do everything in her power to keep her children close to her. She’d told him before that the only two things she loved in this world were her children and him. 

“Father is planning something,” she continued. “My people in the palace have confirmed as much. He’s in search of an object that he believes will make him more powerful than the King. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m going to find out and locate it before Father.”

Jaime sat up and looked on his sister. “You would cross our father and incur his wrath?” 

“I will,” she smiled slyly. “I will find the object and hold it over him, I’ll have him keep Joffrey here. Or I'll learn how to use it myself.”

“How do you plan to find an object our father has been seeking for a fortnight without success?” Jaime was growing more and more wary of the conviction in Cersei’s voice. 

“You are going to help me, dear brother."

**____________________**

 

Jon had never felt at home in King’s Landing. His father had always told him that it was because he had the blood of the North in him. His Uncle Benjen had always told him it was because he’d been meant to take the Black and join the Night’s Watch alongside him. Truthfully, Jon knew it was because Catelyn Stark had resented him since the day she’d shown up to the Red Keep after the wars. Ned had already brought Jon home and had him installed in a room in Maegor’s Holdfast, a Septa, handmaidens, and a wetnurse attending to his every need. Catelyn had been furious that Jon had been brought to the castle before Robb and had taken it out on him every day since. 

As much as he loathed to admit it, Jon probably would have taken the Black had Catelyn not died. 

Still, she’d been his siblings’ mother and his father had loved her deeply, so he had mourned her in his own way. He had always thought that perhaps if Ned had found out about him years after his birth and brought him home when he was older that Catelyn might have actually cared for him. Now, though, he would never know. Instead, he’d lived much of his life feeling like a stranger among his own family and an intruder in his own home. He’d never felt like he belonged even after Catelyn’s death. 

So, when Ned had sent him north of the Wall with a scouting party from the Night’s Watch to locate his uncle Benjen, he’d been thrilled. Catelyn had been dead a few years then, but her presence still lurked in every corner of the palace, reminding him that he did not belong among the true Starks. 

That was when he’d met Ygritte. She had been wild and feisty and three years his senior and at six and ten he’d never felt so much for a single woman. She showed him how the Wildlings lived and had even brought him among their camps. When the party from the Night's Watch had finally found him, she had practically ordered him to stay with her. 

And though he hadn’t wanted to go, he knew he had a duty to his uncle and his father. So, he promised to come back as soon as he could. He’d found Benjen and brought him to Winterfell to rule as Lord until Bran came of age. Somehow, Ned had relieved his brother of his Night's Watch vows temporarily and Jon had been welcomed in the castle as long as he wished to stay. But his heart was elsewhere and as soon as his father answered his raven with one of his own and gave him his permission, Jon went north of the Wall once more. 

He’d brought Ygritte home a handful of times since then. They’d been married for nearly four years now- a Wildling ceremony had taken place north of the Wall and a traditional ceremony had been required when he brought her to King’s Landing for the first time- and still, she kept Jon on his toes. Now, though, she was making her biggest request to date. 

“Ya need to tell him, Jon,” she reminded him as they readied themselves for bed that night. 

“I will,” Jon sighed. “It’s not a simple request, Ygritte. To let the Wildlings south of the Wall would be a radical decision and the Lords would be furious.”

Ygritte rolled her eyes at him as she pulled on her nightdress. The soft palace silks looked strange on her, Jon was so accustomed to seeing her in furs and rough-spun tunics. “We’re not savages, Jon Snow. The conditions in the True North are too inhospitable now. We don’t want all the Wildlings in the South, just the allied tribes. We can’t survive the attacks anymore ‘specially not with winter comin’.”

Jon had heard all of this before. Since the death of Mance Rayder, many of the Wildling tribes had ended their alliances and returned to the old ways. There was a new attack on the remaining allies nearly every moon, and with winter on its way, supplies and able-bodied fighters were dwindling. If Jon couldn’t get their tribes south of the Wall before winter truly began, they wouldn’t live to see another summer. 

“I’ve spoken to Father and asked to meet with him during our visit. He will listen, but he won’t just grant this request because his son is asking, you know that he’s not that kind of king.  He’ll need to be sure it’s what is best for the people and that could take time. Might be half a year before we can bring the rest of ‘em south.” 

Ygritte turned to him, a sly smile on her face. “You don’t have half a year,” she said as she rubbed her stomach. “I’d say you’ve got about five moons.” 

“What?” Jon questioned, his wife had always been able to confuse him. “Winter is still a year away at the least.”

“Aye,” Ygritte teased. “But this babe’ll be comin’ before that. Maybe I’ll stay until then, though. It would be nice to give birth in a featherbed with an army of servants at my beck and call, instead of in a tent with a smelly old lady and only the snow to help with the pain.”

“A babe?” Jon’s eyes grew wide. “Are you sure?”

She howled with laughter then. “Am I sure? Of course I’m sure, Jon. The old woods witch back North told me she sensed it before we left and I let the maester take a good look at me this mornin’ to make sure. He said I’m about four moons in.”

Jon didn’t think he’d ever smiled so wide in all his life. As a child he’d never thought he’d marry- no woman in all seven kingdoms wanted to wed a bastard, or have a family of his own. Meeting Ygritte had been what he believed to be a rare stroke of luck in his life, but she’d been adamant that she didn’t want children when they’d decided to be married. It hadn’t truly bothered Jon, he had gotten more than he had ever expected by being Ygritte’s husband, but now the thought of having a family of his own was the most exciting news he thought he’d ever heard in his life. 

He walked over to his wife and rested a gentle hand on her. “A babe. I’ll make Father agree as soon as possible. This child will know nothing but happiness and comfort in its life. I promise you, Ygritte.” 

She smiled a little sadly at that. “You know nothing, Jon Snow. 

 

**____________________**

 

Daenerys was losing her patience with her nephew’s desire to reclaim the Iron Throne. Since their departure from Essos, he’d spoken of little else. If she had to venture a guess, she’d say he’d been planning this for far longer than the two years it had been since Princess Arya had come of age to be betrothed. 

“I just do not understand why you are so content to let that usurper and his sons rule over our lands,” Aegon continued. He’d been arguing with her for nearly half an hour now and she truly just wanted to return to her letters and business from Dragon’s Bay. 

“I have told you before, Egg,” she sighed. Between her nephew and the sheer number of ledgers she needed to look through, numbers were beginning to spin on the parchment and her head was pounding along with the beat of her heart. “King Ned had been nothing but kind to me since he’s taken the throne. He offered his sympathies for the deaths of our family and even offered me whatever compensation he could give. He offered Viserys and I many opportunities to come back to Westeros and rule over a castle if we chose to bend the knee. When he believed you to have been killed by the Mountain, he was furious. He had the man put to death for the crimes against your mother and sister and had Lord Tywin pay dearly to keep his spot among the Small Council. He’s been kind to me since taking the throne. I am happy in Dragon's Bay, I have no wish to go to war for a kingdom that is prosperous under the rule of someone who has been nothing but honorable since taking the throne.”

“He _took the_  throne, Dany,” Egg continued, not paying any mind to a single point she’d made previously. “He stole the throne that I was _born_ to have. He killed for it. My mother was raped and murdered so he could sit on that throne. My father’s chest was smashed in with a war hammer. My sister was stabbed to death at the age of three, so he could sit his ass in that bloody chair and call himself King of the Seven _fucking_ Kingdoms!”

“Ned Stark did not order any of those things to be done,” Daenerys pointed out once again. “He condemned the men who did. Nearly every man involved in the rape and murder of your mother and the horrific murder of your sister was put to death and Ned Stark was the one to swing the sword.”

“What about my father?” Aegon truly would not let this go. She’d named him heir to her entire kingdom, but still, that was not enough to satisfy him. She knew he would not rest until he sat upon the Iron Throne, though the quest would likely kill him. “Ned Stark was present and fighting willingly in the battle that killed my father- _your_ brother.”

“He had kidnapped and raped his sister, Egg, did you expect him to sit idly by and allow that to happen to her? To allow her to live a life as a hostage just because the man who had stolen her away was heir to a throne? He’s told me time and time again that he only ever went to war to rescue Lyanna. He only took the throne for fear of what Robert Baratheon, the man who truly did kill Rhaegar, would have allowed to happen had he been King.”

“It matters not who swung the hammer or wielded the blade, my dear aunt, any man who was involved in the rebellion that led to the death of our family and the Usurper sitting on my throne will be punished when we take back the Seven Kingdoms.” The conviction in Aegon’s voice sent a shiver down Daenerys’ spine. Sometimes, when he spoke, he sounded so much like Viserys that she could swear he was alive and standing in her nephew's place. 

“ _I_ will not be taking any kingdoms, dearest nephew,” Dany replied coldly. “How do you plan to invade Westeros without my army or ships or wealth to back you?”

Aegon only shrugged. “The princess will come to her senses soon enough. When she does we will be married and my invasion will be made that much easier. If you refuse to back me, I’ll simply wait to inherit your throne and take the army and wealth for myself.”

“You fully expect to outlive me, then, Egg?” Dany chuckled dryly. “You are older than me, though you are my nephew still. Do you truly believe that you will live longer than me and be healthy enough to go to war when I pass? You know you will not inherit Dragon’s Bay for very long, naming you as heir assured that your children will be in line to take my place when the time comes. We’ve discussed this at length.”

“I am still heir to your throne,” Egg was surprisingly calm for someone who’d just been told he would likely not live long enough to claim his inheritance, but Dany suspected this was due to the fact that they’d spoken of this same issue in many occasions before. “The people of Dragon’s Bay will back me. When I am married to the princess, our children will have connections to both Dragons Bay and Westeros and you will come to your senses soon enough.”

“I don’t believe that Princess Arya is quite so inclined to marry you after the way she received you in the Throne Room when we first arrived,” Dany was, in fact, certain that Arya Stark had no interest in her nephew. They’d been at the palace for nearly a full moon’s turn now and she’d not spoken to him since that first day. She’d heard the same complaints from many of her suitors, some who had been staying in King’s Landing far longer than she and Aegon had. “Perhaps you should come up with an alternate plan.”

The rage Aegon possessed, the one that reminded her so much of Viserys, flashed in his violet eyes as he spoke. “Princess Arya _will_ come to her senses and apologize for her less than warm welcome. I’ve been speaking with Lord Tywin at length and he has assured me that he is doing everything in his power to convince the King and the Crown Prince to forge this alliance with us.”

“King Eddard does not force his children’s hand when it comes to marriage, Egg,” she was growing so very tired of repeating herself to her nephew time and time again. “How can you be sure Tywin Lannister will be able to convince him to force his daughter into marriage now when he hasn’t done so for any of his children previously?”

“Tell me, my dearest aunt,” Aegon smiled the smile that told Dany she’d said exactly what she wanted him to say. “Did Viserys ever tell you of the Dragon Caves?”

 

**____________________**

 

Arya knew her father tried his hardest to spend enough time with his children, but he was extremely busy and he had a _lot_ of children. Still, once a week he made sure to take dinner with one of his children individually to hear more about what they’d been up to. Arya had loved the tradition immensely, even more so after her mother had died. Her father had spent many moons in a deep sadness after her death and his children had worried he might never resemble his old self again. The very first thing that had let them know he would be okay was when he resumed their weekly dinners. Ever since Arya had looked forward to her meal with her father more than anything and practically buzzed with excitement in the week leading up to her turn. 

Tonight, though, her excitement was cut with worry. Gendry hadn’t come back the night before to return her bracelet and, though she was absolutely certain he hadn’t sold it, she wondered what could have possibly happened to prevent him from his usual nightly visit. 

Her father must have taken notice of her unusual silence, because less than ten minutes into their meal he gave her a knowing look. “What is on your mind, dear?”

Arya sighed. She couldn’t tell him the truth of it all. As understanding as her father was, he’d surely be irate at the thought of a man sneaking into her chambers every night for the past moon. Instead, she chose to try to divert his attention. “When did you know you were in love with Mother?”

Her father looked taken aback by the question, but still, he paused to think about his words before speaking. “Your mother used to say that love didn’t just happen to us. As you know she was betrothed to my brother, Brandon, before the Mad King killed him. We barely knew each other when we were wed, but once Robb was born and I returned from the war, we grew closer and closer and fell in love a bit more each day. Your mother always said we built our love over time, stone by stone.”

Arya considered his words for a moment. She’d never seen two people as in love as her parents had been, but they’d been betrothed and made to marry without even meeting one another. Somehow, Arya doubted she would be able to act as her mother had done if she was in a similar position. “Do you ever think that maybe you would have been happier had you been allowed to follow your heart?”

Ned sighed. “I do not think so. There was a girl, once, before I had ever met your mother, who I had loved. It was more of a superficial type of love. One that came from getting along and being young rather than the kind that comes from knowing one another and growing together as one, as your mother and I did. I loved her, yes, but since I’ve wed your mother and fathered each of my children I have not been able to regret a single day. My only regret is that she did not get to spend more time with me, watching our children marry and our grandchildren grow.”

Arya choked back her tears at the thoughts of everything her mother had missed since her passing and tried to carry on. She could see that speaking of her mother made her father quite sad and she wanted to enjoy her meal with him, for it would be many weeks before her next. “I know we’ve been entertaining suitors for nearly two years now, but I truly do not want to marry any of them.”

Ned sighed. This was something Arya had told him many times before. “I understand that you don’t wish to wed right now, you are only six and ten, but one day when you are a bit older you will be happy to have a husband by your side.”

“Perhaps,” Arya conceded. “I could want a husband one day, but the lords and princes that have been parading around Court have none of the qualities I would wish for a man to possess.”

“What qualities would those be?” Father asked her. 

“He would be kind to the people who deserve it,” Arya thought aloud. “Strong and tall, with nice eyes. He would be stubborn, I would not want a man who could not match me in an argument, nor a man who would be too weak to stand for his point when he truly believes in it. He’d have to encourage my water dancing lessons and never ask me to dress a certain way. Someone honest and good, who works hard for everything he has. I don’t know many lords or princes who have ever done that.”

“Aye,” Arya’s father grinned. “I’ve not met many myself.”

“What if I met someone who was not highborn?” Arya continued. She wasn’t quite sure why she was asking this, but she felt in her gut that she needed to. “What if I fell in love with him, would I be allowed to marry him? Can the laws be changed?”

Ned looked at his daughter quizzically. “The Ancient Laws are some of the oldest laws in the Seven Kingdoms, Arya. They were adopted by Aegon the Conqueror as a nod to the laws of old Valeryia when he established Westeros. They are our oldest and most time-honored tradition.”

“But they’re just laws,” Arya countered. “And all laws can be changed. Especially ones that are so unfair.”

Ned chuckled, Arya never had been one to let something go. She would argue to her last breath if she thought it was worth it. “That is true of many laws, but the Ancient Laws are important to many of the Lords of Westeros. You need not worry about this now, my dear, you have time before you need to be wed and you will find a highborn who you approve of.”

Arya only nodded, she couldn’t quite explain the feeling of disappointment in her stomach though. 

The feeling returned again when she returned to her room to find it empty. Gendry hadn’t shown up the previous night either and she’d waited until near dawn to see if he’d show. 

 _What could possibly be keeping him for a second night?_ Arya wondered. She refused to think the worst. Gendry had simply been caught up with something important or the palace had been too hard to sneak into. He would show up eventually. She sat on her bed to wait for him, telling herself that he was just running late. 

The next thing she knew, Mina was shaking her awake. 

“Arya,” she said, gently shaking her shoulder. “It’s nearly midday. You need to wake up.”

Arya sat up and rubbed her eyes feeling more disoriented than she ever had before. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but as she took in her room she realized she must have been too tired to wait for Gendry. Her bracelet was nowhere to be seen and everything was as she’d left it the night before. Gendry would have at least left her bracelet had he been there, but she was nearly certain that he would have woken her so she would have known he’d come to see her. 

“He didn’t come,” She sighed under her breath. Now she was truly worried. In the past four weeks, Gendry hadn’t missed a single visit, something had to be truly wrong for him to not come to see her the past two nights. 

“You waited up for that blacksmith’s apprentice again?” Mina sighed as she began to brush the tangles out of Arya’s hair. Both girls knew that if Mina didn’t do it Arya would walk around the palace with her hair looking like a rats nest. 

Arya chewed her bottom lip. “He didn’t show again last night, Mina. I think something terrible must have happened.” 

Mina walked around to look Arya in the eyes. “How can you be sure?”

“I just know it,” she said. “I need to find him. Fancy a trip to Flea Bottom?”

Mina’s face broke out in the smile she usually only got when she’d found a new boy to bed. “I am always agreeable to a trip to Flea Bottom, princess.”

With that, Mina quickly styled Arya’s hair into a long braid down her back and both girls changed into breeches and tunics that had once belonged to Arya’s brothers. Arya strapped her sword, Needle, and a dagger to her belt and Mina tucked a coin purse into her pocket. They snuck quickly down to the dungeons and past the dragon skulls, barely pausing to spare the giant bones a glance- they’d spent so many nights down there drinking themselves silly that the skulls did not quite excite them anymore. 

Finally, they emerged outside the Red Keep and on Aegon's High Hill. 

“Where in Flea Bottom does Gendry live?” Mina asked as they made their way further into the city. 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Arya muttered sheepishly at the look on Mina’s face. “Flea Bottom is such a maze! I know the street the brothel is on, though, just not where the brothel is on the street. We can start at one end and work our way down until we find it.” 

Mina sighed, she of all people knew how impulsive Arya could be. The two girls ventured further and further away from the Keep and into the cramped streets of Flea Bottom. They made a few wrong turns and had to backtrack after coming up on a few dead ends, but eventually Arya recognized the brothel that Gendry lived beside. 

She led a quizzical looking Mina down the alley to Gendry’s door. “This is where he lives?” She asked. 

“It used to be a bakery,” Arya explained, pulling back the curtain that served as Gendry’s doorway. “But the owner died and it got turned into a brothel so they had no use for the storeroom. Gendry’s able to use it for free, the madame and whores never come back here.”

Mina nodded as she followed Arya into the room. The hope fluttering dangerously in Arya’s stomach faded as she took in her surroundings. Gendry’s bed was a mess, but if what he’d told her was correct he never bothered to make it anyways. The rest of the room was much the same as the first time Arya had seen it. Trinkets and other objects took up space on the floor, Gendry’s bull helm was polished and sitting next to the floor. Gendry and Steel were nowhere to be seen.

“He isn't here,” Arya sighed, feeling defeated.

“Perhaps he is just out working for the day?” Mina suggested. 

Arya wasn’t convinced. Something in her gut was screaming that something was wrong. She grabbed a large piece of silk from the corner and wrapped it around her head. “We’ll have to go to the market and see if Hot Pie knows where he is. If the baker notices me, though, he’ll surely try to have my head again for cheating him out of my bracelet.”

Of all the things Mina could have questioned about Arya’s plan, the only words out of her mouth were, “Hot Pie?”

Arya chuckled halfway to the market as Mina continued to question if Hot Pie was indeed his real name. When they finally made it into the square and through the crowds, it was easy to spot the portly boy pushing a cart full of loaves and other baked goods.

“Hot Pie,” Arya called out. “Hot Pie, come here!”

It took him a few moments to recognize her, but Arya could tell as soon as the recognition dawned on his face. “Seven fucking hells, you’re the girl Gendry ran off with that day! He told me you were a handmaiden at first, but he came back a few days later saying you’d tricked him and that you were actually a bloody princess!”

Arya shushed him. If anyone at the market overheard him calling her a princess, she was done for. “Yes, Hot Pie-”

“Princess, I beg your pardon,’’ his face suddenly turned a deep shade of red. “I shouldn’t have spoken that way in front of you, your Grace.”

“Hot Pie!” Arya yelled. He was still groveling and some of the market-goers were beginning to look. “None of that, just call me Arry! If anyone here finds out who I am I’ll be made to go home and I need to find Gendry. Have you seen him?”

Hot Pie thought for a moment. “Can’t say I have, _Arry,_  not today at least. In fact, last time I saw ‘im was about three days ago. He comes every so often to take some of the stale bread from the bakery to use as some sorta disguise to sneak into the palace.”

“Three days ago,” Arya implored. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he replied with a grin. “He said he’d been visiting you nearly a month that day and he had some necklace to return to you.”

Arya swallowed thickly. The necklace Hot Pie was talking about was currently around her neck. It was a thin chain with a small sword at the end, something her brother, Jon, had an artisan make for her on her last nameday.

“Do you seem him most days?” She tried, hoping Gendry was indeed just too caught up to see her.

“Aye, unless he’s too tired. He spends half the days sleeping since he started visiting you, but he’ll usually come to the market ‘cause it’s easy pickings. So many people and everyone’s got their guard down in the crowd. Come to think of it, I’ve seen Steel out here a couple of times, but never with Gendry. That monkey doesn’t usually venture out on his own, but I’ve been feeding him scraps and sendin’ him on his way.”

Arya’s entire body went numb. There were just too many coincidences for her to believe Gendry was okay. He hadn’t been to see her in days, his room looked untouched, Hot Pie hadn’t seen him, and his monkey was running around begging for scraps. She couldn’t even remember the rest of her conversation with Hot Pie once she and Mina were making their way back to the Keep. She was in a daze, her mind anxiously going over every possibility of what could have happened to Gendry. If something had happened to the great big idiot because of his nightly visits to see her-

No, she wouldn’t let herself think like that. Whatever had happened to Gendry she would find out and fix it. She _had_ to.

As soon as they were back to the palace, Arya hurried to her chambers to come up with a plan. If Gendry had been caught he’d be in the Black Cells, the one place in the whole of the Red Keep that Arya had not managed to sneak into. It was too heavily guarded. She would have to find another way to find out if he was being held down there. Perhaps she could ask Jon to look for her, the guards would never turn him away.

Nymeria climbed up onto the bed to lay next to her. Arya felt a pang of guilt flash through her. She’d been so focused on Gendry in the past few weeks, she’d been neglecting her wolf. The first time Gendry had met the wolf, he’d nearly pissed himself in fear- and Arya had nearly pissed herself laughing. But instead of growling or snapping at him as she had with every suitor who had visited the palace, Nymeria gave Gendry’s hand a few good licks before nuzzling her head against it urging him to pet her. He’d liked her well enough, but the presence of a direwolf that was nearly as tall as Arya had put him on edge most nights. Arya had been letting her sleep in the chamber that adjoined hers, which were always empty. Now, though, she lay down next to Nymeria and buried her face in the wolf’s fur.

“What am I going to do girl?” Arya moaned.

Nymeria just cocked her head to the side and sighed. She obviously had even fewer answers than Arya.

As Arya made her way to breakfast the next morning, she was not any more at ease. She had spent much of the night tossing and turning, agonizing over what might have happened to Gendry and what she could do to fix it. She couldn’t help but feel as if it was entirely her fault. She’d invited him back time and time again, knowing the consequences he faced if he were to be caught. She should have sent him away after he’d returned her bracelet to her the first time, but she’d been so selfishly excited at the thought of him sneaking back to see her night after night. The longer it went on, the more pathetically _distressed_ she became at the thought of never seeing him again. She’d felt much like Sansa, spending her days thinking about a boy, wasting time until the hour she would see him again.

 _Sansa would never be in this situation, though,_ Arya thought as she sat down to eat. Her sister would never allow a lowborn from Flea Bottom into her chambers, much less allow him to become such a large a part of her life. Arya had to wonder when Gendry had become so important to her, usually the walls she kept up around her heart and her mind were impenetrable, only a select few allowed to make their way through after some time. But Gendry had managed to make them crumble nearly the moment he walked into her bedchambers and pulled her bracelet from his pocket. How would she ever be able to fix this mess she’d gotten into?

She was pulled from her thoughts by Cersei Lannister, of all people. “Princess Arya, would you mind if I sat?”

Arya glanced at the chair next to her where Cersei had gestured. She would mind, actually, but Sansa would have her head if she found out Arya had been so rude as to outright refuse Lady Cersei’s request. “Of course not, Lady Baratheon.”

Arya knew how much Cersei loathed being called by her dead husband's surname, but now Cersei only smiled slyly at her. Cersei sat next to her at the table but made no move to call a serving girl to bring her food. “I will not be staying long, your Grace. My father has just asked me to see this returned to you,” she pulled a golden band from somewhere in her skirts and placed it on the table. Arya went rigid at the sight of Tully fish and Stark direwolves pressed into the metal, her breathing became shallow. Where in the seven hells did Cersei Lannister find her bracelet? 

“Thieves truly are some of the most terrible scum of this city,” Cersei’s voice was low, her tone almost ominous. “But a thief who can make his way past even the most qualified knights of the Kingsguard and into Maegor’s Holdfast to the princess’s chambers? They should cut off more than just his hand, you Grace.”

Arya was roused from her shock at that. Someone had captured Gendry, and now they were planning to cut off his hand or worse. She had to do something. She shot up from her seat with the bracelet in hand and ran from the Great Hall, ignoring every look or gasp sent her way. Sansa would no doubt lecture her later for leaving Lady Cersei’s company without so much as a goodbye, but Arya could not find it within herself to care. She flew down the corridors and past servants and chambermaids. A few times, she heard them calling her name trying to see if she was okay, but she slowed for no one. 

Finally, she burst into her father’s meeting chambers, shocking the King and Lord Tywin, who had been in the middle of some sort of discussion. She knew how she must look, her hair wildly falling from its braid, her face flushed red and sweaty, and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Still, she did not care.

“Arya, dear,” her father’s face was scrunched in concern. “Is everything alright?”

Arya felt something inside herself snap. For three days now she’d been holding onto the hope that everything would be okay, that Gendry would just show up one night with an excuse as to why he’d been absent, so she hadn’t allowed herself to talk to anyone about how worried she had truly been. Sometimes, the walls she had built up around herself since her mother died did more harm than good, but rarely did she let them fall long enough for others to see.

Today, however, was different. “No, it isn’t. I need you to release a prisoner from the Black Cells.”

She knew she sounded a bit hysterical, but she did not care. Her father would do this one thing for her, he’d _have_ to.

“Release a prisoner?” King Eddard asked. “Why?”

“He’s my friend,” Arya swore she’d never sounded so emotional in all her life. “He’s my friend and he’s good and kind. He was a smith’s apprentice and he’s worked every day of his life for what little he has, but still, the world has been so unkind to him. He’s the kind of man who would risk his very life for someone he’s never even met, Father, and he’s taller than even you, stronger too. He has such nice, kind eyes, and he cares for people. But he’s stubborn as a bull, he can argue for hours and hours if he feels strongly enough about the topic. He’s honest and good and he believes in me. He was impressed by my water dancing and sword collection. He even offered to forge me one if he ever got the chance to smith again. He’s a good man, _a good man_! He does not deserve to be in a cell!

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me, Father, I swear it. I’ll take more etiquette classes or let Sansa teach me needlepoint. I’ll take _actual_ dancing lessons. Hells, I’ll marry the fucking dragon prince and move to Essos and bear him children,” Arya ignored Lord Tywin’s scandalized look at her swearing, he’d raised Cersei Lannister he should not be so surprised to see a highborn girl say fuck. “I’ll do all of it so long as you just let Gendry go free.”

“Gendry?” Her father asked, smiling with mirth and a perceptive twinkle in his eye. “What has this Gendry lad done that has gotten him thrown in the Black Cells?”

Arya threw her mother’s bracelet onto the table. “He had this when they took him. Lord Tywin has just had Lady Cersei return it to me at breakfast with a thinly veiled threat on Gendry’s life,” she made no effort to hide the venom in her tone. “He didn’t steal it! I’d given it to him and he was returning it to me!”

Her father turned to look at Tywin Lannister. “You caught a boy you thought to be stealing from my daughter and you did not tell me? Tell me all of it, Lord Tywin, and tell it true. Then I wish to speak to this boy.”

Tywin sighed. “Of course, your Grace. The boy, Gendry as the princess says- though he was more of a man really, closer in age to your own son, Prince Robb- was caught by a castle guard sneaking out of Maegor’s Holdfast quite early in the morning, about four days past. He tried to run from the guard, but he was intercepted by three guards from my own retinue and brought before me where I was presented with the facts and the bracelet. You were quite busy with the matter of the Wildling rebellions, your Grace, and I thought it best you not be disturbed until the matter was settled.”

“And this man,” Ned asked seemingly as unconvinced as Arya that Tywin had his best interests at heart. “He is in the Black Cells, I presume? I would like to speak with him at once.”

“If I could bring him before you, your Grace, I would,” Tywin bowed his head in what Arya could only guess was mock shame. He turned and directed his next words at Arya, though, and did nothing to hide the triumph in his voice or the smug smirk on his face. “However, he confessed to his crimes and was given a choice between execution and the Night’s Watch. When he refused to take the Black, he was to be brought before the Master of Law and the King to stand trial for treason-”

“Gendry is _not_ a traitor,” Arya seethed.

“Of course, Princess,” the smirk on Lord Tywin’s face grew with every word. “But he was to stand trial. However, when two of the guards went to bring him before your father, he attacked them and unfortunately was killed in the fight.”

Arya was barely aware of the pounding of her heart or the ringing in her ears. Gendry was dead, and it was her fault. She was the one who had practically begged him to spend the night in her chambers. She was the one who had kept him from leaving when they both knew the guards would be tired and less diligent. She turned and fled from the room across the hall to her own chambers. She slammed the door shut and barred it from being opened. She was vaguely aware of the sound of someone knocking on her door and her father calling her name, but she did nothing to acknowledge it as she flung herself down onto her bed and cried.

_Gendry was dead, and it was her fault._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quite a bit of this chapter was written whilst i was at between three and five mojitos deep and alternating between a hammock and a beach chair in mexico, so sorry for any errors. idk if you can tell, but i ship jongritte over pretty much any other jon pairing so they'll be featured in this story quite a bit. i hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think. next chapter will be all gendry's pov & we finally get to meet genie!davos!
> 
> (ps. major bonus points to anyone who knows what other fandom i stole mina's name from! i will seriously love you forever)

**Author's Note:**

> okay, i know that you're all probably reading this and asking yourselves "what is this girl on?" and tbh the answer is not enough of anything to make much difference. but honestly, i just saw the live action aladdin (let me tell you naomi scott is a goddess and i've stanned her since lemonade mouth) and the whole time all i could think of was how perfect this story would fit gendrya. like come on ? a poor orphan who lives in the slums of a rich capital city falling in love with a rebellious princess who just wants to have a more important role than getting married and having babies? i'm honestly shocked that i haven't seen more of these au's for gendrya. honestly, gendry might be a little OOC especially for book!gendry. (i'm trying to read them but it's hard when idek when GRRM will finish the series and i don't want to get my hopes up too much) hopefully i can keep both arya and gendry relatively in character, besides the fact that gendry's gonna pretend to be a prince he still lowkey hates highborns. he and arya are still gonna have their same sarcastic banter and cute friendship. idk how much i'm gonna develop it before the whole genie storyline takes place, but we'll see what happens, anyways, let me know what you think and leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed it so far! hopefully i actually stay motivated and finish this one bc i am so feeling it rn!


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